Black trash bags torn
apart by rats or stray dogs
lie on the sidewalk
of chewed bones,
I do want to forget these last years
but small bones
in the gutter without skin, muscle
or meat remind me
of my mother’s trembling hands,
will my fingers too
become useless twists?
And then, her mind’s slow erasure.
and I slip on ice and fall.
My knees hit hard against the cold
wet and along with pain, sudden grief
greets me with the memory
of her blind
eye like a quivering yolk.
At night, I toss, hearing disconsolate
creatures wail and root and each
day finds waiting, my dogged grief,
panting like a faithful pet.
Aileen Bassis is a visual artist and poet, living and working in Jersey City, NJ. Her artwork in photography, printmaking and book arts has been widely exhibited across the US. Poetry is a recent passion that threatens to devour her creative life. Her poetry will be published online at Mobius: The Journal of Social Change.