"Mother's Day Memo"
Remembering Ida
Poem by Anita Pulier
Breathe in her scent.
Thumb through food-stained cookbooks,
touch her buttery fingerprints.
Remove little notes
on more garlic or less wine,
place them in your jewelry box,
safeguard her secrets
it’s time to unravel
Mom’s clues.
Bow your head to
unique holiday offers
of sensory overload.
Recall family dinners crowded
around an orange banquette
curving around a Formica table,
kitchen walls
strewn with flowered wallpaper
insisting on cheer.
Allow a moment to grieve
the loss of unconditional love.
Pour a nice cup of tea,
open the Times online,
place the cursor
on the world you live in now.
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