Mama loves birds but is afraid to fly. She rests now, secure with her crooked smile, the whorls of her thumb print, her cigarettes and Pep-O-Mint lifesavers, quilts and romances, morphine and x-rays, her hollowed bones. The pilot swoops closer to the leaping waves. The wind shifts, and she takes wing, fire-polished ash.
This little birdie found a home at BLUE FIVE NOTEBOOK. Thank you wunderbar editors Michelle Elvy and Sam Rasnake for publishing my words. Peace...
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Oh. That is SO lovely, Linda. Really, really beautiful. My breath caught in my throat each time I savoured it. The details of her cigarettes and her Pep-O-Mint lifesavers - fantastic.
ReplyDeleteBrilliant description. I especially like fire-polished ash.
ReplyDeleteI red this through a couple of time, lovely writing especially like the opening sentence "Mama loves birds but is afraid to fly. She rests now, secure with her crooked smile,"
ReplyDeleteOops red should read read ^__^ it's late what can I say...
ReplyDeleteIs the notion that she's been cremated, Linda?
ReplyDeleteThanks all for reading. Yes, John, she's done burned up and floating like dust motes. Peace...
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, of course.
ReplyDelete