There’s a reason I’m late with a Mother’s Day poem. Grief holds my heart still, unable to share with the mom I miss. — My tiny mom sits on the edge of the cool porcelain tub
resting after her shower.
Once five feet tall, she is smaller now,
lighter too,
one breast missing from a mastectomy,
that cancer gone years ago,
a new version working on her lung. I hate it. She rests there…