Thursday, May 12, 2011

leftovers

the expensive facial serums unopened
the olive oil half used
the glass jars of black beans and barley
the tissue packs and lip balm in your little crochet purse
the scalp treatment that smells of coffee and chocolate
the cloth doll you made for me when i was a child
with blond yarn hair and green embroidered ct eyes and small pink felt shoes
the velvet throw pillows with tassels
the fragments of old lace and linens
the carved bone cameos
the moldy leather bound books you treasured (they were from your father)
the journals filled with secrets i 'd rather not know
the photographs of you always more beautiful than i was am or ever will be
the love notes to me
the wooden toys and stuffed bears you were saving for my children
though they are now too old for them
the boxes of articles on disease prevention that didn't help at all in the end
the drawings and paintings of you by all the men who worshipped you
reminding me of this lack in my own life
the date book that ends abruptly on september 23rd, 2010
some of these things i cherish
or sell much too cheaply
or give away
some, destroy for lack of space or because they hurt too much
but when i pat my skin with the thin film of cream
i can feel your fingers
and i do not want it ever to be finished
and when i hold your date book i want to write in it every day
for the rest of my life

4 comments:

  1. still a part of her & a part of u, u loved them all.

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  2. i love this poem so much, it's very personal and i love the way you describe all of her belongings. I have three shoe boxes full of personal belonging that belonged to my dad; army patches, old photos, Vietnamese coins, Taiwanese lighters, blown glass baubles, old letters, so many things that fit him perfectly that i would never part with. love love love this :)

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  3. my mother...my life...sigh...

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