Cuticle Scissors

Mama leaves them on the tray,
Long-beaked little animal,
Mirror skin elongating my face.

Her cosmetics leave footprints in the dust,
Sleepy, perfect shapes like ovals and squares
Arranged in a quiet battalion.

The foundation puttys her cracks.
The rouge a youth balm,
Little Kool-aid crystals soft in the lines.

And she clips what has grown wayward
From her fingers,
Small and transparent that fall to the floor
To mix with the dust in the carpet.


~ by SimmerSnow on January 7, 2012.

2 Responses to “Cuticle Scissors”

  1. You have quite a nice blog and this poem was a delight to read. Well done .

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