You made me think of women
of a certain age
both mother and daughter
A compact snapping shut
Pursing lips to the memory of a reflection
And speaking of pursed
I’m thinking now of losing a purse
How some losses are lost
But losing a parent is nothing like losing a purse
Why do we say then?
Sorry for your loss
I have a sympathy note to send
to the cousin of my husband
And do you know?
Weeks have passed since that passing?
It’s paralyzing, words for that time
in one’s life
and now I see
it’s not *that time*
(as if passing were an event
what kind of test is that to have to pass??)
It’s constant, like breath and touch and seasons
giving thanks for knowing (for you help me to know)
we do not lose our losses.