Wednesday, 4 August 2021

I wish I could ask her

by Emalisa Rose

It has purple wrens on it, with filigree

branches. I wish I could show her; she’d

But she passed several months ago. She’d

tell me how warm I would be and to just
buy one already.

This one’s velour with a triple lace collar,

long sleeves with cuffs to keep out the cold
on those nights of first frost, when winds 
whip the willow.

And snugly I sleep, though

the bare nights of February.

I wish I could ask her, what I’d never ask

anyone, in my fear to acknowledge, with
the pink in my hair; tattoos on my sleeve
and one or two piercings in unusual places.

I wish I could ask her -

what it’s like to get old, Mom?

* * * * *

When not writing poetry, Emalisa Rose enjoys crafting and birding. She volunteers in animal rescue, helping to tend to a cat colony in her neighborhood. Living by the beach, provides much of the inspiration for her art. Her work has appeared in Writing in a Woman's Voice, Spillwords, and other fine places. Her latest collection is On the whims of the crosscurrents, published by Red Wolf Editions.

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