Micheline Maylor
Grey Cord
I leaned into her and combed the grey hair
to the side of her resting face and my fingers
wove a long braid. Her skin was a flower
petal beneath my touch, light and ready
to tear. She didn't move, just rested
serene with breath as shallow as a rain-spray
puddle. I stroked her arms and leaned
in to smell her neck near the breasts
that almost drowned me as a child. I held
her as if to restrain the life from leaving
and she did not struggle to escape
when I pulled the long grey cord
and all of her life leaked away.
Page(s) 54
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