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
