The Feeling of Scissors Cutting Away

There was never a scream when you died,
only the sound of inhalation and exhalation.

Scissors can make an itty bitty cry
at the axis of of two blades.

Long cuts are slow and steady.
Little snips are quick breath around curves.

What has been cut away is considered negative,
disqualified and discarded.

Intentionally, remaining cloth can be
draped and darted into something new.

A beating presser foot
pumps matching thread into matched seams.

Let no one split apart what God has
joined together.

It seems I have lost the ability to believe this,
Because my careful wedding dress is gone.


( My mother sewed my wedding dress and my sister's wedding dress. A few years ago, I took the wedding dress out of the plastic and a pink foam hanger had permanently ruined it. I secretly put it in a dumpster. This poem is the poem of grief).

Cinderella's New Year

My mind thought with my eyes,
it might be better for me this morning.

I barefooted around the kitchen,
opening and closing drawers
full of Knives, Forks, and Spoons.

How truly alone is it to wish for a prince.

Counter crumbs are for small mice.
Dry roses curtsy in a vase.
Stale champagne is poured down the sink.

The day has too much heaviness to be
the start of a new year.