Terminal Appellation

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The last time I ever said your name,

I was much too careless with the syllables—

Your sounds slipped off my tongue so easily,

Like water spiraling rose patterns down

A drain, or wind stealing silver seeds

From a dandelion clock—but how was I

To guess you'd never catch your breath again?

I wish I'd packed the final curve and vibration

Of your speak-worn letters with all the warmth

Of a life cherished beyond

narrow sentences

of flesh.


*A poem for my mom, who passed suddenly and too soon in 2008.


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