I never got to say goodbye to my
daughters. Memory fuzzed. Fell heavy like
ripe peaches, rolling into a dark sky.
Unreachable. My heart suddenly hiked
into absence. & all the things that we
carried darted like voles underground, out
of light, out of sight running beyond me
down dark tunnels I knew nothing about.
I cannot hold you as much as I want
to. You are breath. Pulse. Mist. I am just this.
Still. Will you stitch me so needy, so gaunt
into the suture of your dreams? I wish.
A gnawing need to be remembered taunts
me. Please. See me at the window I miss.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 26, Issue 3.
Rose Maria Woodson is the author of two chapbooks, Skin Gin, 2018 QuillsEdge winner and The Ombre of Absence (Dancing Girl Press) as well as the mini-chapbook, Dear Alfredo (Pen and Anvil). She has been published in Inkwell, Revolute, Oyez Review, Third Wednesday Magazine, Crack The Spine and elsewhere. She holds an MA in creative writing from Northwestern University.
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