MAPPINGBeloved cartography,I know every line, every patch in this photography: the indented place between eyebrows where cancer grew and was cut out. Bare more than pink lines spread tributaries in the creamy part of blue eyes that once squinted by coal oil lamplight. Acquiline nose tilts in some tribe’s direction, cheekbones models would kill for, a smile that hides teeth, left over habit from a gold one in front she was ashamed to show. Ribbon lips spread in a smug smile because she holds a great granddaughter who sleeps snuggled where a breast used to be, another part of her stripped she would show you when she was in the nursing home, a huge map over her heart and she would say "Look at this, have you seen this?" (unacceptable terrain) Chin of no real significance though often stuck out to her husband, others who would control her, the world in general, but here, in this snapshot she is most herself holding a baby, binding heart to new compass. Copyright 2000, S.W. Rickett
S.W. Rickett has been a professional dancer; an x-ray technician; a public school teacher; a writer since the seventies and is presently seeking the degree of Master of English, Professional Writers Program, at University of Missouri-Kansas City. She has published poems in (among others) New Letters, Nimrod, Chouteau Review, Number One Magazine, From A to Z.
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