So Fingertips Kiss
So Fingertips Kiss
Five kids, eight years. Then
one June day my wife shouts
to me on the mower
roaring in the yard:
“I’ve had enough.”
And like a ballerina,
she rises on one foot, sole
of the other foot firm
against her knee.
With arms overhead
so fingertips kiss,
she smiles,
pirouettes,
and like a helicopter
lifts into the air,
clears the garage
and keeps rising.
I can do nothing now
but curse
and be proud.
As if at the ballet,
I clap from the mower
and await the explosion
as she hits the sun.
Donal Mahoney
Copyright © Donal Mahoney | Year Posted 2010
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