Over the river and through the woods
past the bird sanctuary
crowded as we head into winter
My mom's house
is mostly as she left it
as she lived in it
feeling as much like remains
as any body could
This empty shell
is a museum
to the life she lead
the person she was
and to her absence
I was holding her hand
When she drew her last breath
and I didn't let go
until the coroner came for her
Knowing I'd never hold that hand again
Now I sit in her living room
where I sat with her
through Christmas Eves
and birthday celebrations
And I don't want to let it go
she dies more with every
letting go
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