Girl Talk  Collage & Poetry by Kathy Cotton 

Red Flower

In a well-tended garden

or the hand of another woman,

on a polished casket

or diva runway,

the unfolding petals hold

the imaginary meaning

of a moment.

Only to an untrained child

is the rose

simply a red flower.

© Kathy Cotton

 

Granddaughters

In one synchronized motion

this suddenly taller child

lifts her eyebrows and 

shoulders,drops them, turns 

away,leaving me to wonder:

Was there a moment

when my grandmother

set aside a bowl of flour

or yellow-handled broom

to press her face hard

into a cotton apron and weep

because I answered

in monosyllables,

shrugged off every offer

to share familiar pastimes,

grew up too soon.

©Kathy Cotton

 

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