Nancy Ring
HOW BRIGHTLY
Hot pink feather, glued by a child. It’s a bird I think,
and that feather looks warm. Would that I could pluck it
and wear it like a moustache, but it won’t salve these icy arms.
Dragging my mother with me, my mother who is always,
always cold. We pull our sweater sleeves down over our veined
hands, our jackets pulled tight around us, she slow bending over
her walker, one small step at a time. But today there is urgency.
I magically make her race in hot pursuit. We pass more pink,
the hot pink of backpack straps, and the bright pink sponge,
radiating hot water heat, levitating between sink edge and floor,
like a slice of moon cake. I long to press it to my shivering breast.
Then the bounty is finally had, a cup of scalding green tea
that burns my lip on the first grassy, greedy, sour sip, the pink
packets of artificial sweetener nixed, no real sugar to be had here.
Mom dissipates with the steam, and I’m alone in my Siberia
again with the pink highlighter in its cup, the toy llama tufted
with her hot pink fur. How selfishly she hoards it. How brightly.
Nan Ring is a published author, poet and award-winning visual artist who has shown and sold her art nationally. She has been awarded numerous artist in residence studios, most recently at Millay Arts. She earned her MFA in painting from the University of the Arts and her BFA in studio art from Syracuse University. Her work focuses on ideas of the vast contained in the intimate, small moment. To learn more about Nan, visit nanringstudio.com