Poem: Two Years After the Death of My Mother

i reach inside myself
trying to erase the desire
to be rocked over and over

silent music the color of your eyes
plays out of me
in the form of a smile

i am a bowl of flowers
soft-petaled and carnal
mouth open to the storm

my death will be a curling inward
i will breathe out the water
i will become the air

This article appears in June 2010.