She Builds Her House Around My Body – Marianne Peel

My mother’s hands scurrythrough the junk drawersearching for the scissors.Dull blades.  Yellow handles. She corners mein the bathroom. Bends meover the sink, my back pressedover the edge.  Formica.  Scrubbed with Pine Sol.The fumes dizzy me. Disorientme, blades brandishedtoward my bangs.  She has no level.  No bowlto chop around.  Just her cataract eyes,blurred, to maneuver the … Continue reading She Builds Her House Around My Body – Marianne Peel