IN THE HEYDAYS OF HIS EYES
(taut jeans dancing)

An Anthology of Poetry about Being Young and Growing Up
 
 
Home
Table Of Contents
Authors
Acknowledgments & Links
 

AUTHORS


POEM FOR MY MOTHER

Siv Cedering

Remember when I draped the ruffled cotton cape around your shoulders, turned off the lights and stood behind your chair, brushing, brushing your hair. The friction of the brush in the dry air of that small inland town created stars that flew as if God himself was there in the small space between my hand and your hair. Now we live on separate coasts of a foreign country. A continent stretches between us. You write of your illness, your fear of blindness. You say you wake afraid to open your eyes. Mother, if some morning you open your eyes to see daylight as a dark room around you, I will drape a ruffled cotton cape around your shoulders and stand behind your chair, brushing the stars out of your hair.

 
 
Website Design and Hosting by Allied Computing