Bar22do
12-05-2009, 12:11 PM
for Mom
(echoing hack's poem)
I remember her dreams, so little fulfilled.
Rivers with boats too frail
often hurled aground onto sandbanks,
onto nil.
Arias of light operas she loved
and musical comedy films with which
she stole moments from hardship;
And I can still see
how her face changed from stone to flower
by my sickbed as my head cooled down.
I also see, lifelike,
her face changing from flower to talc
as the last tide came
and washed against what was left of her.
(echoing hack's poem)
I remember her dreams, so little fulfilled.
Rivers with boats too frail
often hurled aground onto sandbanks,
onto nil.
Arias of light operas she loved
and musical comedy films with which
she stole moments from hardship;
And I can still see
how her face changed from stone to flower
by my sickbed as my head cooled down.
I also see, lifelike,
her face changing from flower to talc
as the last tide came
and washed against what was left of her.