A Child’s Memory

By Emmy-Lou Norton

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A wrinkled palm sits atop my young and tanned skin 
A hand that has held many others, held many for others 
 
A crinkled lip 
and smeared lipstick  
on teeth 
 
Smile lines and worry lines 
cross hatch in every direction  
 
Smoke lifts into the fern 
The fern cascades 
like a jungle  
in the kitchen