From a Corner of My Mind

Memory     The  mattress  is  so large   I can spread my arms out   until my shoulders ache   and never find the edge   From where I  lie   I peer through c rib  bars   at  painted-blue nursery walls   The  air  around me is as  quiet   as  an infant’s breath,   sleepy and thick with milk   I  br ush baby-fine hair    from my face   with hands that have not yet   hurt another   And in my mind   the motion weaves thought into a cloth   and stitches together   the first scrap    of patchwork memory   So some of you may have noticed I skipped a week. Sorry about  that ! These last few weeks have been pretty busy for me. For one, I am currently taking a poetry class- as demonstrated by this poem- so  I've  been working on poems for that and didn't want to share anything until I had gotten feedback on it. The ...

            My sister wore my grandmother's dress on her wedding day. The sepia portrait above the vanity, almost obscured in the tulle that ran around the room, looked just like her,  grandmother’s  dark hair pulled back, her smile bright across her deep brown face.  She  would have loved to see her house  now, all bedecked in flowers and ribbon . She smiled in her photo, holding a bouquet of yellow blossoms: lilies, my namesake. My sister straightened herself in front of the mirror. "How do I look?"  s he asked me, fabric swishing around her. Her black hair was pinned up in the back, holding the veil in place above her wide ,  brown eyes.    "You look nervous," I said. Her shoulders slumped. "It's alright, Anna," I told her, walking across the room to stand next to her. I turned her to face the mirror. "You're beautiful. If Wyatt wasn't already in love with you, he'd certainly fall for you now." ...