Little Scissors

I keep losing those scissors
that I use to trim their nails
because I keep hiding them
so they don’t cut themselves
I keep them so well-hidden
I have to buy another
Do you know what regret is?
asks the New England-trained counsellor
as if I had never listened to Leonard Cohen alone in the dark
Forty little finger- and toe-nails to trim
I did not bargain on another twenty
Have you changed your mind since I saw you last?
I can’t remember how to fold the paper
to cut a chain of dolls holding hands
so we try snowflakes instead
and it unfolds like a broken accordion
I am a crap mother
I can’t even cut right
three little ducks in a row
and then there were two

Lara Frankena


Lara Frankena’s poems have appeared in publications such as Free State Review, Unbroken and Midwestern Gothic.

© 2020