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My Mother’s Last Days
I slip the bracelet into my pocket
try the ring on my finger
catch myself in the mirror
see her sleeping behind me.
My mother is sick.
At home, I empty my purse out, my pockets
put the jewelry in a drawer
of photographs and dried corsages.
Someday she’ll be gone
too soon.
Holly Day's poetry, fiction, and nonfiction have appeared in Canadian Woman Studies, Skyway News, and Ruah.
She currently works as a reporter and a writing instructor in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and lives with her two children and husband.
Her hobbies include skateboarding, crocheting, and trying to peaceably communicate with uncooperative vending machines.
Email: Holly Day
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