It's not new, but neither am I.
Dear Mama,
I miss you. I always thought
you might come back to tell me
some good news about where
you've gone. Nights and even days
I think about the last time I saw you,
lying in that bed, hair bunched
from sweat and struggle and
strung out long like grandma's.
Sometimes my dreams bring you
here and you look young and good
in your sparkly black dress. Wouldn't
I love that.
Your daughter,
Carol
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