By accident she snipped
the amaryllis stalk
still crowned with buds
red and unopened—it happens,
it happens like this,
these moments in which
we do what we never
believe we would do—
what were we thinking?
scissors in one hand,
and all that is no more possible
in the other.
Wonderful poem, Rosemerry. The impossibility to undo what has been done wonderfully captured in the last verse. Wish I could click on “like” 100 times.
Just drilliant.
Thanks so much … my mom, the one who last night had scissors in her hand, said “ouch! It didn’t make me feel any better …”
But oh boy do I know that feeling …
Those two hands at the end are the magic in this one for me; they bring the poem to such a fine closure.