Poetry Month #14: Apron Poem I’ll share Now My Mother Is Dead by Miriam Sagan

I came upon this on an old blog post. It was part of a project with Joan Logghe for the Hispanic Cultural Center using poems on an apron. I posted photos, but not the text itself. It wasn’t too private to hang in the wind but too personal to post while my mom was alive. Have you ever had a similar experience?

my intellectual mother
never wore an apron
but feared what it covered
particularly on her daughters

chased me around with a scissors
to cut my hippie underarm hair
blades shaped like a bird’s beak
and in flight I took wing.

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