After shedding the work of months- the strands dropped like autumn leaves in the shower, the testament of the reckoning of my body before her and my own rebirth-
on both temples graying strands of new growth refuse to stay slicked back no matter my fruitless frustration.
Her dozing fingers pat my chest, as her eyelids flutter to rest in my arms she shifts her weight and my perspective.
I have earned wings.
Shannon J. Curtin is a mother, poet, and humor writer. Her writing has been featured by McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Points in Case, Scary Mommy, SlackJaw, Mothers Always Write, and other publications. She holds an MBA, competitive shooting records, and her liquor. She would probably like you. You can find her at www.ablogofherown.wordpress.com and @ShannonJCurtin on twitter.