by Michelle Flores
Her head is in my hands
now. Hair shaven, eyes
closed. A yin and yang
of skin and scar. Gently,
I rub her velvet scalp,
careful to avoid the fading
sutures. She smiles, eyes
still closed as she drifts
off to sleep.
Curious, I slowly brush my left
finger across the C-shaped scar.
Hair and thread poke my finger
tip, and a sharp intake of breath
tells me she’s awake.
“Careful,” she says.
“Sorry, Mom.”
“Don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Her breathing slows. I lean in
to kiss her cheek. She quickly
pulls the sheet over her face.
The shadows from the bedside
lamp create a forest in which
I find myself lost.
Being a native Floridian and current resident, Michelle Lizet Flores is happy to have returned to the land where trees don’t sleep. A graduate of FSU and NYU creative writing programs, she currently works as a 5th grade reading teacher where she fosters the next generation of American writers. She has previously been published in magazines such as The Miami Rail, Noble/Gas Qtrly, and Rigorous, and has work forthcoming in Gravel Magazine, Azahares, The Bookends Review, and Cagibi. Find out more at michellelizetflores.com.