I didn’t respect her
she was terrible at her job
we were grateful when she was gone
it annoyed me that she wrote her name
on the cover of my booksthat none of her sets were complete
that she left a mess behind
but then……she was really gone
all those psychological stresses
were physical and actual disease
I didn’t watch it happen
the last face I saw was a constant
frantic-edge state
dark-circled and wornshe reminded me of my mother
in her darkest times
the numb fail-safe state
I learned as a child kicks in
I feel nothing………for her
only for her children—
the ache of those young hands
the sink of those feet
the electric……..quiet
left beside her husband
I can’t feel the lost
only the left
the dark placid eyes
I know as well as swimming
how ache becomes a sea
breath-holding under black skies
I’d pour out her ashes where
she left her children swimming
First appeared on Ishaan Literary Review
Sarah Thursday 