Bridled Hands
Her fingers are unnoticeably 50 plus,
dainty and naked
covered
in wrinkling dish water that exaggerates
their years.
Pausing again and again to
lift a lady bug from the sink
and gentle her
back onto the window plant.
Careful, graceful,
she chats with it
as if they are high noon tea sipping.
Its annoying until
revelation enters and soothes
my agitation;
its not the age,
its her patience that bothers me.
Two marriages failed,
I question her sanity.
Engaging in unattended conversations
with anything that could be holding
the youth that once graced
her hands
are life lines.
Fading unimpressionable memories.
Fading who she talked to,
what she wore, what she ate.
Each of her moves in re-verse
stories starting with “yesterday I”
ending with “when I was ten”
Only since she turned 50.
I dry and put away dishes,
careful not to move
untouchable wedding plates,
remnants of the enduring bride
with two hunks of bitter frozen cake.
Patiently she waits
at empty alters with no complaints.
Each day is like
a shovel of dirt
dinging the veil
of this half buried century.
It bothers me,
that she always wears gloves,
and never wonders
which will come for her first.
About Phoenix YZ
I was born and raised in Macon, GA
Formally educated at Agnes Scott College, My Momma’s Kitchen, Columbus State University, & The Other Side of the Tracks
The Work (Books, Film, Plays, Performances, etc.) The vibrant Atlanta arts scene inspired Battle to produce two spoken word albums and an alternatively styled book.