--- L I N D A   Z I S Q U I T

from My Mother's Death




Four weeks have passed now. The details are no
less blurred or clear than on that Tuesday
when her breathing eased and her temperature
stabled and it seemed, as always in those frames
of family event, it would go on that way forever,
till the eyes opened and the heart expanded and
then ceased to beat. Yesterday I received a photo
of her high school portrait and quickly (unlike me)
I framed it and set it out for all to see. When-
ever someone entered or passed they asked at first
who? then could it be you? that is, me? and of
course it couldn't, the hair soft in thirties style
around the face, the eyes dreamy, accepting, urgent
only in their aftermath of dream, when acceptance
comes to mean response to love, disappointment,
and the power of her knowledge then was to
suffer well, but I was moved by the asking, proud
of the possibility of looking like her, charmed
that her dying offer me this gift of accepting well.