The Christmas
clock
in the kitchen
plays silver
bells
as she sits her
blonde head
bent over soft
silk,
with tiny stitches
she makes flowers
the color of
marigolds,
roses and lilacs.
Long forgotten
now
the office so
cold it
sucked the air
from
her lungs, angry
faces
shrunk to the
size of tiny
buttons.
She pins the flowers
to straw hats
with
lace and feathers,
creates a new
woman with skin
the color of
joy.
Cynthia
Harper, San Antonio 2006 |
