afterwards
after
the hard work of that night
all
the laboured hours
slowed
to match her slow
harsh
respiration
its
rhythm almost lulling
unsure
if she struggled to breathe
or
to stop – as the sun rose
the
sound softened
softened
then
both were over, her life
and
her death, already
in
the past – one hand lifted
in
warding off
or
welcome
equinox moon
surrounded
by a green
diffusion
of darkness
heavy
as threat
she
watches; silver
eye
patch
or
weathered balloon,
her
wrinkled
mercury
skin a map
tracking
song lines
on
my mother’s dead face
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