Mother, tell me how
(Karen Cronick)
Sometimes,
still, I feel
the need
to ask her
something,
a birthday
date,
or an old
friend’s name.
I held her
as she died.
I closed
her eyes,
and said
goodbye,
She is
gone,
and still
she’s
here,
she hovers
near.
Yet, like midday
dew-ponds.
all that’s
everyday
has no reply.
I ask her,
Mother,
please, still
now,
could you tell
me how?
