The Selfish Poem

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In eternity,
my mother will pick dandelions
to set on the table
in an empty honey jar
and she will think of me.
She will always cut her sandwich
diagonally
the way she did for me.
She will sleep in a large, white
bed and wake every night,
with a start,
because she thinks
she hears me call.
In eternity,
I wish my mother no pain, no worry,
no grief,
only constant happy thoughts –
of me.
I know it’s selfish.
I know it’s childish.
But after my mother is gone,
I will go to every desolate beach
and throw a bottle
into the deep forever sea.
I will go to every hillside
and release one red balloon
into the sky.
I will go to every temple
in this world
and leave a small carved box.
All these things will hold
the same handwritten note
that will be folded
as neatly as any that
my mother always hid inside
my blue lunch box.
The note will say
            wherever you are,
            don’t forget me

 

Photo by Duncan Brown (Cradlehall)

Tricia Cimera

Tricia Cimera

Tricia Marcella Cimera is an obsessed reader and lover of words.  Her work has appeared in Silver Birch Press, Reverie Fair, Prairie Light Review, and Downtown Auroran Magazine.  She volunteers, believes strongly in the ideology of Think Globally, Act Locally, and wants you to Support Local Art.   Tricia lives with Rob, her husband, Sinder the Cat, and Gray the African Gray parrot in St. Charles, IL.
Tricia Cimera

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