By Cosette
Date: 26 July 1999

30 years

this night before i retire my daughter she asks who are you 
she saw a photograph where your image is yellow and brown 
i recall only a few things
how you sang the Cascades rhythm of the falling rain 
and how you concocted new lyrics of us taking morning showers 
how you picked daisies from the graveyard where my brother was laid
and how you dried my cheeks with their petals and said
"honey, those would be your last tears... not one for me"
how you sit tall with the choristers under immaculate togas
how your gentle hands were in church accordion praising God with soulful hymns
as if those hands wouldn't throw a die bearing my rotten luck 
how i missed dialing your old numbers 
since your last voice trembled when you broke to me a bad news
i've been alone in a matrimonial bed you promised to share only with me
my husband, he is on the other room counting sheeps
his skin is his heart with holes and wrinkles from cigarette burns of 30 years
my daughter, she rose from her pillow 
i embraced her but she pulled away with stern look at my face
she is waiting for a word from my mournful lips
in desperate concealment of how i still recall about these few things