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When I Turn Into MoonMy mother always cut her hair on a blue moon there in the kitchen an ashtray resting on her knee—Cradled, Madonna of Bruges She said it was luck that kept her here and superstition. Her hair, a bed of red and gold occupied a space between the dirt and heaven and me on the ground at her feet all dirty dark brown rat’s nest viewed her hair as a bridge to the night. When I turn into moon She, a moth Will rise to me That red turned silver like some alchemist’s trick. Reds that weren’t quite her’s that held chemical-like secrets and cigarette smoke Usurped its place In frustration and grief She sheered it all off beneath the dark of the moon, conjuring black magic in her desperation till I could not recognize her in her metamorphosis. When I turn into moon She, a moth Will rise to me I remember the day my father died. My mother on the floor, pleading to a forgotten god trying to bribe her way into heaven. They rushed me out of the room then before I could breathe moonlight back into her. Sometimes now, I cut my hair on a blue moon. Sitting on the kitchen floor, scissors gnawing unevenly, I wait patiently for each fallen strand to turn red and gold, to become a bridge to the night. When I turn into moon She, my mother Will rise to me Sydnee Wagner is a closet poet and a PhD student at The Graduate Center, CUNY, studying Renaissance literature and ecofeminism. Though seemingly busied by her research and art, she still manages to find time to drink copious amounts of coffee and peruse the Internet for funny videos to send to her friends. Sydnee’s poetry serves as a platform for her to explore her relationship with her mother, ethnicity, and sexual abuse, among other things that inspire her during bouts of insomnia. #Unreal #Poetry #CreativeWriting #Poem #Photography #WhenITurnIntoMoon #CUNYGrad #Mother #CuttingHair Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. Comments7/31/2014 03:48:39 pm
This is such a gorgeous poem-- the images are so bright and heartbreaking. Comments are closed.
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