You were severe in your
choice of adjective,
spewing anger in every syllable
you flung at me.
They sliced through layers
of ruffled skin,
tiers upon tiers of it,
And your mouth kept moving,
chewing the air.
Whistling through my gaping flesh.
The Past, Now
A childhood spent in weeds,
pulling at mosquito wings for attention.
Still, she rubs her elbows,
smoothing wrinkles out for one instant,
holding time back like
tugging on a thread an intake away from snapping.
She smiles at her newborn skin,
tauter now than the day her mother
pressed her out.
Smoothing out that wrinkle in her life.
Valentina Cano is a student of classical singing who spends whatever free time she has either reading or writing. She also watches over a veritable army of pets. Her work has appeared in numerous publications and her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best Of the Web. You can find her here: http://carabosseslibrary.blogspot.com