Routine
…..
Turning his chin toward her,
she lathers his face,
then dips the razor
into a bowl of warm water.
She begins cheekbone
to neckline, a straight path
between white heaps
as though clearing fresh snow.
As instructed, he flattens
his upper lip, and she works
in short strokes from one side
to the other until his skin
is clean. Even though he sees
only his children, the specialists,
and the occasional visitor,
she insists on this routine.
4 pm each day before supper
and then the evening news.
This is something she can do.
…..
…..
This poem first appeared in Rust and Moth, and can be found in the chapbook Nothing Left to Fix by January Pearson (Finishing Line Press) at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/nothing-left-to-fix-by-january-pearson/
January Pearson‘s poetry has appeared in Tahoma Literary Review, Calyx, Los Angeles Review, Notre Dame Review, and other publications. She lives in Southern California with her husband and two daughters.
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