By late afternoon they are children again,
watching the Disney Channel, wondering
what will be served for dinner. That moment
under the priest's thumb long forgotten
while the ashes still shadow each forehead.
It is the imposition of unthinkable
stillness, a reminder of twilight lost
to dusk. Whatever starlight you are, child,
you are first and last dust.
Ash Wednesday
No commentsMelissa Dickson is a poet and mother of four. Her work has appeared in North American Review, Southern Humanities Review, Southern Women’s Review (issues one and two), Birmingham Arts Journal, Sense Magazine, and other print and online publications. Her collection Cameo was released in 2011 by New Plains Press. She is currently at work on a collection revisiting and revising the life and death of the mythical mother of two, Medusa. She lives in Newnan, GA, and holds an MFA in studio arts from The School of Visual Arts and an MFA in Creative Writing from Converse College.
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