It Seems You Have Forgotten Me.

It Seems You Have Forgotten Me

It seems you have forgotten me,

and I toil each day with your memory

coiled deep in my body as you once were,

a gentle spark leaning toward a moving.

I should have known

when you walked early,

it might also be far,

yet I never dreamed it would be away.

I remember, your small small hand

curled around my finger;

how you stumbled room to room

looking for something I could not fathom.

I remember your dark hair,

foamy with shampoo,

how you laughed when I spiked

and curled and rinsed it in the tub.

I remember dresses and boots

and coats in every size and color,

summer shorts and pants

and pleasure in your eyes,

I remember, gifts and giving,

how, when you finally had real money

you bought me a birthstone ring,

rubies spiraling the finger you once grasped.

Everything you are echoes through

the blood we share

your gentleness, indignation, caring,

always always, always your red and robust laughter.

I am walking, motherless now,

toward another birthday

anxious for your voice or presence, any

indication that you have not forgotten me!