Her Hair, a Braid
by Tina Barry
Her Hair, a Braid
Lips wavy in the chrome teapot's reflection,
you mouth for-ty, slowly, and again,
for-ty, as if it were a word discovered,
not the years since your mother's death.
Would it help if I mention the boxes
in the basement?
She's there, in a tin, loosely wound
beneath sepia tissue paper, a braid
to worry in your fingers.
I want to tell you I wore a coat
today with a fur collar
like your mother's mink pelts.
Black and oily, they smelled
of crowded ships and herring,
wood smoke on snow.
|
8
favs |
1350 views
18 comments |
100 words
All rights reserved. |
Author's Note
"Her Hair, a Braid," is published in the August issue of The Orange Room Review. Big thanks to editors Corey Cook and Rachael for including me in such a great publication.
Other stories by Tina Barry
Tags
Comments
You must
log in
to post comments.
I love the mystery behind the images here. My favorite lines:
"She's there, in a tin, loosely wound
beneath sepia tissue paper, a braid
to worry in your fingers."
Thanks, Jen!
I remember an early version of this poem. It turned out beautifully!I can hear and feel that sepia paper.
Lovely meditation on time and loss.
nice work.
Thanks so much Carol, Gary and James!
Wonderful images all the way through to wood smoke on snow. *
Fantastic. You use smell to great effect, but also touch. I admire the music in the first stanza. Hell, I admire all of it. *
This fits a situation like one of my own; it is a poem I didn't think of writing about a subject that requires a response quite like it, so a discovery. I like the metals in the poem and its precise 100 words. *
Good piece. *
Thank you for the kind words about "Her Hair, a Braid," Beate, Pia, Ann and Sam, and thanks for the stars.
Something glimpsed out of the corner of the eye. *
"they smelled /of crowded ships and herring,"
Perfect.
Thanks, Bill. Glad you like "Her Hair, a Braid."
Gone, but never forgotten. Great images.
Thanks Emily!
Wonderfully realized.
Thank you, David!