I miss you on days like these
Shorn away, shucked and discarded
The scent of you abandoned on the air
Not possible, as it is
So very far away and long ago.
I miss you on days like these, on days
But not for me.
I miss you for the daughters.
The ones you knew as a mother knows.
A mother knows.
Dark traded for light. My slight moods
Swapped for her largesse. You knew her, in me.
You saw her, a ghost of the unliving,
I miss you on days like today, when the light
Hits the eyes of my youngest and
Her fingers glow like magic and she is suddenly
Unequivocally yours. The delicate
Touch of a hand. The glossy upturn of
That same side of hair.
That one Mother, which never listened to men.
Or iron. Flipped like a turtle, unyielding.
I miss this for you.