Shhh, they tell me. You are a tiny Christmas fairy
coming in with the Sugar Plum. Silver dress,
pink roses, jewels and lace falling over my fingers.
The other fairies trail in on quiet tiptoes, but
music is church-sweet, so I do what I want to
do there. In I come, screaming the quiet away,
because, yes, with scissors on the dressing table,
I'd cut my hair, my head now spiked as Nana's
cockatoo. I scream until the Sugar Plum twists
the scissors from my hand, lifts me up, spins,
dips, and, as a hundred hands clap and clap, she
toe-shoes me from hot light into cold shadow.
Susan Terris’ recent books are GHOST OF YESTERDAY: NEW & SELECTED POEMS (Marsh Hawk Press), MEMOS (Omnidawn) and Take Two: Film Studies (Omnidawn). Journal publications include Georgia Review, Southern Review, and Ploughshares. A poem from Field appeared in Pushcart Prize XXXI. A poem from Memos is in Best American Poetry 2015. She's editor of Spillway Magazine and a poetry editor of Pedestal Magazine. http://www.susanterris.com.