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Twin Candles

by Maddison Sellers


Every night my mother asks me to light a candle

So the room is golden she says

So the light is soft she says, turning off the lamp


Then I reach for a thin white candle, the matches too

And cut the wick a little shorter because

My mother told me to do that each time she lit one when I was a child


Then when I strike the match, I wonder

If I look like my mother when I would watch her as a child

I wonder how I seem, and what my mother thinks

When she sees me doing something she once did for me

 

Maddison Sellers is a reader and writer from rainy Washington State where she lives in a little apartment filled with books. She reads for the Chestnut Review, the Chariot Press, and is the graphic designer for the Cloudscent Journal. Her work can be found in Trillium, the Unconventional Courier, and On-The-High Literary Journal. When not reading or writing, she spends her time browsing bookstores and journaling. You can find her on Twitter at @maddi_sellers.

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