There is nothing left now but bits and bones of the mother I’d known. Her hair once shiny and nicely styled, smelling lemony with each morning hug, now dirty, mousy gray, scraggly. Hanging down to her knees like an old curtain. It drapes one eye. She reminds me of Veronica Lake, I tell her. She …
The Mother I’d Known | Shelly Blankman Read More »
The post The Mother I’d Known | Shelly Blankman appeared first on Best Poetry.
Go to Source
Author: Best Poetry Online
