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turquoise eyes

we hold each others gaze

I memorize her face

while changing her clothes

her hair is unkempt, in swatch’s

radiation tattoos dot her left side

pancreatic cancer – hereditary – is

taking her away… too

sixty-four years old, stick thin

legs as fragile as her memory

my mother – suddenly my charge

her dry turquoise eyes dart back

and forth, searching, she’s anxious,

“my doll? my favorite doll!”

(hiding in the recesses of her mind)

hospice mentioned she may regress

become childlike

I cry softly when it happens

her voice…  high and small

“if we were sisters we would fight over dolls…”

my voice… soothing

“mmm and you have the best dolls don’t you, Beverly?”

she sighs… slowly smiles… “thank you mama

my turquoise eyes

dart back and forth

searching…

© 2003 lMc

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