Thursday, January 29, 2015

i think of my mother every time i change the pillow cases,
i think of her rasped voice, her knobby knuckles- tan and
lined like a fingerprint- all over her
the wrinkles like a finger print, her voice calls from a
tiny place, "hold it under your chin". my mother has taken care of others since she was 13, "flip
the tags to the bottom". my hands instinctively move as hers did(do) and
slid it secure. the tags to the bottom, now nestled like fabric
muted,
cushioned.


my mother has taken care of others since she was 13
and taught me well, i flip the pillow case
so no one feels the tags

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