The Shiny Kind

I thought of you today,

as I unwrapped a slice of cheese,

the processed, shiny kind.

The delicate crinkle between my fingers

reminded me of purple puffy jackets,

pushchair adventures

and waiting for the bus.

Gently I rolled the glossy orange slice

finger and thumb, and wondered

if you regret extra time on the naughty step,

school absence when you knew I was faking it.

If you regret who I’ve become or who I’ve met.

It is just cheese,

the processed, shiny kind.

Yet, I recall you, who

taught me to love,

and embrace love as strength not weakness,

as monogamy, not a hobby.

I recall homemade play-dough,

marzipan and mosaics.

How you taught me to be curious

from a wary, calculating distance.

You taught me to retrieve my broken glass

and polish it with the tenderness of your smile

and the softness of your hair.

You saw my moments of regret

and handed me time to reflect,

taught me how it works

and how it is okay, if your cheeks get a little wet.

I thought of you today

and the mother you are;

the shiny, but not processed, kind.


© Kristiana Reed

For my Mother, who helped me become the woman I am today.


2 thoughts on “The Shiny Kind

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