where the hair parts

where the hair parts

my mother remembers

the hairclips

I used to wear as a child. 

the candied ones, 

glistening in her eyes

like spun sugar. 

 

I would take them off 

when she wasn't around, 

afraid 

they would slip 

from my hair, 

like so many leaves

floating 

down a river. 

oh, 

to be given love

without knowing. 

to worry, palms slick,

about where 

to keep it. 

I never lost a single one. 

and now 

they sleep, 

pressed flowers 

in ziploc. 

dreaming of spring, 

with clasps

too small to pinch.