The last time I saw her

there was a clamour
in my soul’s anatomy,
a sixth sense enmeshed
in a daughter’s flesh.
I held her fragile hand,
touched fingernails,
like fractured shells
embedded in sand.
The lump of imminent
loss stuck in my throat
like a dry piece of toast
can never be swallowed.
I cannot forget
how her sacrifice spread
its diaphanous skin
across her web of bones,
so like my own,
as her soul prepared for exile
the last time I saw her.

Kim M. Russell, 9th September 2019

On the swings

My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Get Listed! with Helen Dehner

Helen is our guest host today. She tells us that September is her birth month and she is seventy-eight and still kicking! After a year in which poetry took a back seat to everything else in her life, she is back with a list of words which reflect her book club’s choice, My Dear Hamilton by Stephanie Dray and Laura Kamoie.

Helen asks us to choose three or more words from the given list and include them in poems of any form and any length.

24 thoughts on “The last time I saw her

  1. This is a heart-wrenching read. Something in the way you describe the diaphanous skin
    across her web of bones, puts me in mind of my grandmother’s hands.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I left a comment for you on Monday which for some mysterious reason never appeared. Your response to the words challenge gave me chills and a few tears. I held my mother in the crook of my arm as she took her last breath. A privilege. Thank you for joining.

    Liked by 1 person

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