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Mammy’s Fever. Promote Yourself


cat

Her small hands lift the cool, white sheets


their pastried skin,

glazed

opalescent

Beneath folding, looping veins

bones of steel.

. . . .

Fingers

thoughtful fingers

tapping lightly in little rhythms

begin gathering the cool sheets for rehearsal.

. . . .

Moving through time

they trace

the patterns of the life they now describe

. . . .

Outside the window,

the cat

that was never there

vanishes;

Mammy  dreams

.

in her hospital bed,

.

making pleats.

© Ruth Ann Scanzillo, professional cellist/pianist from Pennsylvania; amateur poet/essayist.

About poetreecreations

I am an author writer publisher web administrator I run poetry workshops in the community. My published Manners childrens poetry book can be found at www.waterstones.com

5 responses

  1. Lovely…and mind you I don’t use that word too often:)
    a.g.

    Like

  2. Reblogged this on The Works of A. L. O'Prunty and commented:
    So very beautiful. Written from the heart and soul of the poet.

    Like

  3. So beautiful. Reminded me of my dear Mother, who i miss very much. Thank you for sharing a piece of your soul here, in these lines.

    Like

  4. Thank you, Poetreecreations! Thank you!

    Like

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