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.
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