Annette Januzzi Wick

Letting Go of Broken Things

Letting Go of Broken Things

Looking back, I was such a bitch, when I first moved my mom into her care home. I used to walk in, inquiring, but demanding, why weren’t her shoes clean, or why was her hair all matted down. Or where did the cute little pillow with embroidered flowers go? How did a...

Coming Into Flower

Coming Into Flower

Her lips part – a naive rose readying to open as if to beautify the world by saying something, something.   She reaches for a glimmering stick in shades of tangerine night, aims then pulls back then aims once more. The stern edge lands squarely along the upper...

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