Volume 5, 2005
Combing
Catherine V. Caldicott
Concerned for your image
You asked for a comb.
As it eluded your reach
I took the old pink plastic
And fanned out gleaming silver threads
Against the hospital pillowcase
The last time I combed your hair
You opened your eyes
Rare as alexandrite
Or sparkling Stella Maris
Under platinum waves
You held court
Our sweetly smiling Amphitrite
Framed by your silken sea spray
The last time I combed your hair
Before I dressed you reverently in black
Before your daughter's daughter
Pushed you in a matriarch's argent chariot
Queenly under glistening crown
Rendered pale by your dignity.
The last time I combed your hair
You told us it was late
You said time was of the essence.
Mirrored in your aqueous
My bewildered sisters and I
Laughed nervously
But how were we to know
That while silvery silk still clung to pink teeth
Your sands ran through our fingers
Your tresses a low tide against a cotton beach
The last time I combed your hair?
Return to Table of Contents, Volume 5, 2005.
