Sister Sonnet 1

TW: Water/swimming, crying

I hold the paper underneath my chin / as a sister traces my taut top lip / with a pair of hair scissors. Silver / shines, but my eyes are closed: scared of a slip / of the only hands I really trust to / cut crisp into me an artful kinship. / Teach me to see myself in the mirror / with love. Create me a discipleship: / Each meeting of the blades to free me: some / gnarled voice that sings from bow of sunken ship.
/                                   /
The moon hangs high and full and uneclipsed.
We sit side by side by side painting nails. / I cry so sweet the water lets me float.


About The Author

Cosima Smith is a creative exploring life through writing, visual art, and body work. As a rural queer with city experience, they once considered themselves a polyglot but language unused is language lost. Find them hiking, doing yoga, or trying to understand and be understood.