My Mother’s Hands

Vida Chu

 

Her red manicured nails
used to dance across the keyboard.
Fingers adorned with sapphires and diamonds
pulled my hair into braids.
We sisters rushed home after school
for a dish of Mama’s mango ice cream.
One day she put a match to her old letters,
lifted her suitcases and slammed the door.

Now the nails are cut short,
the knobby arthritic fingers bare.
An age-spotted hand twists
the leash of her faithful Welsh Corgi
while the other gropes the empty mailbox.

 

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About the author:

Vida Chu grew up in Hong Kong, came to America for college, and stayed. She has lived in Princeton for over fifty-three years. Her poems have appeared in Kelsey Review, Princeton Arts Review, US 1 Worksheets, and The Literary Review. She has children’s stories in Cricket Magazine and Fire and Wings.

 

 

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