The Shape of Remembrance

the shapes of remembrance Her room was small and square crammed with beeping machines and family. as she died, we gathered like frightened chicks trying to ease her or call her back. I think it was the latter, she returned. twice she was gone and turned back we hovered, our need so great she waited, until we thought she was safe and we left her side. I held Momma’s right hand studied it like a piece of sculpture. thought, I must remember its shape small, pale, oval traced with blue veins. while she is here hold on to its form engrave it into my brain so I may recall the nails short striated with age, neatly filed. take its warmth into my skin, keep it somehow. I wanted to say it was alright for her to go talk to momma soothe her passage do something; behind me I heard the tsk, tsk, of my sister mocking my words. look for the light momma follow the light. tsk, tsk, sucked between disdainful teeth I went silent let it cow me the shape of cowardice is silence.