the only bit I have left
my mother’s light blue jacket
it’s that little souvenir of a terrible year
cancer is mean, a bully, a curse
she had it in her lungs for a bit
Cancer got uglier, and spread about
He got into her brain, her bones, her everything
a terrible year, a terrible year
the last three months worse than all the others
I see my mother’s light blue jacket now
and remember cancer well, but cannot get rid of it
because it still has the fragrance of my mother
I can always take a whiff; it’s the only scent of her I have lef
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