~


my body went through the motions
           gently grabbing and pulling
                 from the corner of the roll
                     tossing absentmindedly large crumbs
                       to eager ducks
                          and one old swan

the foggy day matched
           my teary gloss
                    maybe the sun shone bright
                           yet I could not see past
                                  my own mist

  this was her bench       possibly
               these were her ducks
                       in the abstract
                            I was her
                                      tossing my own body to the fowl

delicately folding the plastic bag
             I placed it and her memory into my pocket
                        flipped my collar against the cold air
                               and turned my back
                                       on Mother’s ducks    /