mother and I

Mother and I

Mother’s ashes all gone, used a teaspoon,
on my corn flakes every morning it took
two years. Mother was a perfect speller,
I’m a lousy one, she was also strong and
though by eating her I would get some of
these qualities. Alas, it hasn’t worked out
well, I’ve got a dowager’s hump, read
romances about dentists, and get misty all
eyed when it ends with wedding bells.
When I wake up in the morning I have to
concentrate hard to remember who I’m,
the mirror isn’t helpful she grins back at
me; when an elderly gentleman helped me
across the street her laughter was audible.