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Closing Mother Down

April 8, 2009 by · No comments

Cheryl Snell

Photo: pixle

I’m trimming my sister’s hair

when Mother makes for the scissors.

I’m the one, she begins. Her words

sputter to a halt as I close the gaping blades.

She stands, dwarfed in the kitchen

she once ruled, and I see her as she was,

bending low over the children’s curls,

her movements precise and quick.

I am the scissors cutting her

from her old life now, and even as

she opens me to loss, I begin

to close her.

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