I walk with
my mother.

I hold her hand
tightly as

she is dead
and might fly away

with the leaves
that scatter before us.

She sees again
with my eyes.

The world
delights her.

I listen to Ray Charles
with her

as I did
when a child

and we both sing
DROWN IN MY OWN TEARS

as she ironed and
ironed.

I lend her my ears
and she laughs

at the Shakespearean usage

Calls me her( as always)
"little nuisance!"

When she died
she moved in with me

borrows my senses
occasionally.

Always she
uses my laughter>

"Death..."
she smirks
"...He don't scare me!"

She sits inside
my head

as I iron
and iron.

"You want the Ray again
Mam?"

"A huh!"

"I think I'll
drown in my own tears!"