11: April 2016 #11 - the foot rub
Authored by Derek Smith
the foot rub
by Derek Smith
in your mother's calendar the lines are very straight, between the days, each and every day. because the plants don't water themselves. pockets of her coat deeper than her arms, glasses framed by lines, eyes that recede infinitely. she doesn't remember everything who it was that said what someone said but she remembers how it felt and how high the tomatoes’ vines grew that year placed on the table next to the mail, keys tired and defeated. then, her daughter's hands, first still, stirred and clasped her feet and rubbed in tiny loving circles.