Vestige [poem] by Susan E. Sage

Mother, gone almost a year
yet I pull a hair from my mouth
and I know it’s yours—so fine and white
It could be no one else’s but yours
After peeling it from my tongue
I plan to examine closer, but a warm June
breeze carries it—where? The spirit realm?

Will there next be a petal from a “host of golden daffodils”?
(How you loved Wordsworth!)
Certainly, your voice from my own vocal cords
will remark about the lovely evening—
the birdsong and low humidity,
deepening shadows which no longer chill

After telling a friend about my certainty of you
they proclaim it a cat hair
but I know you
when I see you and always will

 

 

Image of 1930s Switchboard Operator

[Refer: This poem put the editors in mind of Nancy Priff’s poem “Tithonus Cries Enough.”]

Susan E. Sage’s poetry and short stories have recently been published in Storyacious,  E.T.A. Literary Journal, Black Denim Lit, The Green Hills Literary Lantern, Rockhurst Review, Passages North, Metis, Qua, The Wire, and Corridors. Her first novel is Insominy.

 Image by liz west