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For Carolyn, my mom.

Ashes of 1999

Blue_rose-wallpaper-10097037by Sulley Wilde26 Nov 2013

Strange seeing you lying there
Forever stiff
Forever still

I search your nothing expression and feel your body’s blue chill, begging me to move in closer

You’re a human popsicle beginning to thaw

I call you, “Mom,” “Mother,” a biological life giver, “Eve.”

I look at you magnified as through a microscope
and notice some resemblance, a tie, little bonds,
freckles!

So we do have something in common.

Stepping back I eye you as a whole, all of you in one final picture, added to my memory.

I wonder, will I have your deep lines of worry scarred into my face at fifty-seven?

Will my lips resemble the deep craters of the Grand Canyon from an aerial prospective like yours do?

Will my children stand around my shell, my cold freckled stiff shell and wonder who I was, what I was and if I was?

There under one eye is all that’s left of your life, a smudge of black mascara. It’s the last
time you’ll ever wear makeup.

It’s your own beacon screaming, “I lived!” Tell me mom, were you able to hide all your years of pain behind those layers of denial?

I wonder.

I came back today. I’m a witness you know
A witness that no hands will ever touch your body again

The deed is finally done and you’ll never be cold, rather,

you’ve become something simpler. Your embers are cooled and now you’re less than a bag of fertilizer.

Your whole existence is forever measured by your weight in ash. The same ash as the cigarettes you smoked, gray and white ash, useless lifeless
amongst tiny shifting mountains of bone


The moon’s frigid dust carry’s more importance

Who wouldn’t want six pounds of moon dust proudly displayed on top of their T.V. along side of knickknacks and brick-a-bracks for everyone to see?

But there’s no moon rock up there,
no moon dust no moon ash
rather

you’re up there in your black unmarked box.
You’re proudly being displayed where everyone can see you, but no one takes notice except me, the very least and last of your breed.

I wonder mother, do you ever get tired of watching, “I Love Lucy” reruns?