Mother’s Day


for this
motherless child
it has been
almost two decades
but fingers still itch
to pick up
old-fashioned receiver
on sundays
punch in your number
tell you about the 90’s
elijah earned on spring finals
hear you laugh that al
is indeed my karma
roll your eyes
across the miles
at my latest tattoo

we were puzzles
to each other
mismatched pieces
that often
rubbed and chafed
i was never
soft cardboard
was i?
lasered steel perhaps
sharp around the edges

your mysteries
still reveal themselves
from time to time
causing the kaleidoscope
picture I carry
to abruptly spin
rearranging the
colored shards
of myth
and memory
as your fractalled image
shifts into something
an unfinished narrative
for me to ponder

© 2018 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved


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