Mammy’s Fever.


June, 1988

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

6/88

all rights. Bless you.

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