Mother
Hazel Quigley
Originally Published in the June 2012 Issue of Empirical
I made a point of watching her
In the kitchen.
She prepared fruit,
And set it
On a bed of cream
Meticulously.
I joked that grapes are grapes,
But failed to break her concentration.
As she labored over little berries
I thought myself the smallest in a long line of Russian dolls.
But I’ll grow yet
A matryoshka dynasty.
Hollow but for each other
Faces painted.
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