Her name did indeed suit her - once
formal teacher turned sit-on-butt-all-day
examiner of disability files, gray gay
colleague who always wore big pants and
jackets that covered some pudge and muscles
gone soft. Hard-hearted, some thought.
She once had a life with days in the sun,
love for one remembered now at twilight.
My friend never said what and who
were left behind when her mother
needed her to press cold diamonds
from filtered savored sand,
to freeze time to dab Mother's sick
Her other friend, a dependable woman,
arrived each morning, for her nine hours
with Mother while Mother's dutiful aging
daughter attended to her slow office death.
Later, Norma took the night shift - another
sloppy tasteless dinner, one spoonful into
Mother's open mouth, one spoonful between
the tight opening between her own lips - turn
by turn before sponge bath and story. Then
lights out on the nightstand between their
twin beds - one with fifty large jingle bells
sewn onto a strap attached to the mattress.
MLydiaM ~ September 2010
Read what other writers saw in this image at Magpie Tales.