‘Bonne Nuit’ and other poems by Vicki Murray

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

Categories: Poetry

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