Wednesday, October 24, 2012


Old family photos


Her hands, small
as a child’s (one digit
oddly curved), wrinkled,
veined, freckled with age,
extend at the end
of sleeves (mine)

Her face -- forehead furrowed,
lips pursed, intelligent eyes --
(collaboration of love, pain, pride,
impatience, humor, fear, mistrust
frustration) superimpose
over mien (mine);

She’s hiding in my mirror,
biding in blood and bits, in skin
and bone, heart, throat, gut,
grey matter; residing in nearly
everything that matters
in me



  1. Haunting how we carry these traces with us! Great to read some more lines from PSC!
    Hope all is well on this foggy autumn day. Take care.:)

  2. Ahhh... Thanks, Patricia! It IS haunting indeed. And amazing how the connections remain, and are passed along. Am absolutely enjoying this lovely autumn (even when wet) -- and hope you are doing the same. So glad you stopped by & enjoyed. :-)