I knew you to be forever young,
mother permanently thirty-nine
calloused skin, brittle haired woman.
You'd certainly scold me for
my lack of bedtimes.
Mountains in Havre
captured youth-
and tea parties in the backyard
there's so much to learn
from your songs unsung-
lung cancer has a contrived way
of expressing its attachment,
it cannot live without you.
I know you to be younger than I,
forever.