"Note from Fantine to Her Daughter, Cosette: (4)" and "Note from Fantine to Her Daughter, Cosette: (5)" by Kelly R. Samuels
Note from Fantine to Her Daughter, Cosette: (4)
Your father had a way about him. Honey on the tongue. Sweet
words put forth in open air, written on the page, whispered
in the ear, his hands busy, busy. I could listen to him all day
and well into the evening. And nod and smile and give over — yes,
that old story. Here another: of the alley, the greasy bed. Little
said. My heel catches between the paving stones. The ankle turned
and coddled. I stand for hours, thinking of what I’ll send to you,
when I’ll send for you, love of that sort more than. All the other:
the bee’s sting.
Note from Fantine to Her Daughter, Cosette: (5)
Tell me what you do with your days. Are you frolicking,
wearing a new dress bought with what I sent, a cheerful chirp
heard? You will have grown, I’m sure, and your step more certain.
Would that I could catch you, dandle you on my knee, kiss
your nape. It has been so long since I last set eyes on you, and I
find myself fretting more. Something seems to have come loose
inside me, knocking against bone. It rattles in the dark. And I am
so warm and then so cold — snow between the blades. And just
this morning: a finch found dead outside the window.
Photo Credit: Tiffany Cook