A Mother’s Hands

 

Keeler Pics 151

I keep my knife so sharp that even slicing celery is easy peasy—

none of that skin left frayed at the edges.

My crisp cuts are cleaner than

hers

ever were; and

 

I dice the carrots much quicker than she

ever could do,

even while counting all of the times

she’d combed my hair with her slender fingers.

 

We used to have the same hands;

well-made for cooking, and raking tangles.

 

 

Published by

Kindra M. Austin

Author of fiction, poetry, and very sweary social commentary. Editor and writer for Sudden Denouement, Whisper and the Roar, and Blood Into Ink. Founder of One for Sorrow. Founding member of Indie Blu(e).

14 thoughts on “A Mother’s Hands

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