Sometimes I will tell people
my mother died.
And sometimes I will tell them
she died on my wedding day.
And if I trust the density
of their benevolence, I will tell them
her eyes rolled to the back of her head,
as if she were watching it happen with
me, her mouth dropping to a small
vowel as she slid
to the floor in a periwinkle gown,
quiet, without a goodbye
or an objection; her wrists relaxed
at her sides as if she didn’t think
reaching out for me would help.
And if they’re still listening,
I will tell them how I stood there in pearled white satin,
stilled. No breath in. No breath
out.
As if I stopped breathing with her.
Lorraine Henrie Lins is a Pennsylvania county Poet Laureate and author of four books of poetry. She serves as the Director of New and Emerging Poets with Tekpoet and is a founding member of the “No River Twice” improvisational poetry troupe.
Her work has appeared in a wide collection of familiar publications, and a small graffiti poster in New Zealand. Born and raised in the suburbs of Central New Jersey, this self-professed Jersey Girl now resides along the coast of Carolina where she has learned to pump her own gas.
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