A note about this blog:

The poems in this blog have all been previously published, but are not yet in order by date. I hope to do that sometime in the future, as well as to add others.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Edge of Glass

Edge of Glass

My mother bites the edge of fine blown glass,
crunches fragments in her teeth and swallows them.

Cool, smooth and delicate.  Like dangerous ribbon candy.
She is a small, thin child, sepia-skinned, dark

hollow eyes with reflections of long-dead faces.
She scuffs her knees roller-skating, metal skates

on bumpy sidewalks from home to Grandmother's.
Yesterday, a match fell into the wastebasket.

The kitchen went up in flames.
She turns a Tootsie-Roll in her mouth as she skates,

chocolate honey-syrup darkens her tongue.
Sometimes, there is a large, strange bow at her throat

or perched on her head. Her dress is polka-dotted,
gingham, flowered, devoid of color.

Other times, the skate key bangs on a cord

No one seems to notice as she grows smaller

and smaller. Fades. Wrinkles around the edges.
Tonight, she turns another glass in her teeth.

Half a house burns from her dreams.
Tomorrow, she may disappear entirely.

Mary Stebbins Taitt
published in The Women Artist's Datebook

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