They are just like her mother's hands with wrinkles
but these are her own freckles, and this skin
is a cream color. Moving easy like that ball gown,
they gracefully sweep through their duties.
A constant reminder of her aging
body, those knuckles work ceaselessly
on the desk, reaching, always there
with no need for a mirror to see.
Her gentle arms now hang from my shoulders;
my reflection shows her former waist and hips,
and the statements I remember most
now creep smoothly from my lips.
(2008)
