The Strange Behavior of Grief — needs different picture

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The night I finally got my mother
to bed, I remember snuffing out
her cigarette. The smoke signaling the shimmer
of sunrise through the gauzy curtains.
Yet it failed to dazzle.
………………………………………….Hours of shielding
her hard-hitting words. She’s intoxicated,
I said, and who wouldn’t be after
losing a daughter? But where is
the consoling psalm for the one left?
……………………………………..Hours of coaxing
and a huge relief as I turn off
her bedroom light. Sleep
will be good for both of us,
where there is no measure for grief.

Yvonne Higgins Leach is the author of Another Autumn (WordTech Editions, 2014). Her poems have appeared in South Dakota Review, South Carolina Review, Spoon River Poetry Review, Cimarron Review, and Wisconsin Review, among others. She earned a Master of Fine Arts from Eastern Washington University in 1986. She has spent decades balancing a career in communications and public relations, raising a family, and pursuing her love of writing poetry. She splits her time living in Snohomish and Spokane, Washington. For more information, visit http://www.yvonnehigginsleach.com

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