By: Vicki Murray

Bonne Nuit

Mother is dying. I go to her
More than miles separate us,
years of silence and misunderstanding.
I enter her room. Others leave.
Her speech is unintelligible.
I listen desperate to understand.
In a death garble, she anxiously speaks.
I answer her saying, “I understand,
I’m glad you told me. You did the best you could do.
You were a good mom. I love you”.
She understood what I said.
I was left with questions.
Her breathing slows.
Small baby like sighs.
Bonne nuit, dort bien

###

Hotel Towel

She sits on a hotel towel
dressed in yesterday’s clothes.
Face washed of emotion.
No lipstick.
She sits on a hotel towel.
Her arms bare to the sun.
Legs stretched to the sea.
No shoes.
She sits on a hotel towel.
Clouds hide the sun.
Beach empty of people.
No laughter.
Lifeguards man their station.
Children play in the sun.
Hotel towel floats in the sea
No girl.

###

Pinecones

Pinecones cover the ground
Soldiers at Gettysburg
A few stand,
thousands lie dow