when she says your mother should buy you an Easter dress
I know that in some silent moment she forgot her daughter
her eyes were green in every shade I can’t remember one
who told you the truth about the final weeks—never dying less
always traveling toward the inevitable however long cannot be hopeful
without being something else
you need only see drowning above water once to know its name
you can only say goodbye once having said it over and over
her eyes became fisheyes floating in algae and foam
until they closed for a week before the breath that breaks
is it the everlasting dream the clock moving only minutes
that time before death an eternity my daughter and I the passengers
black dome of sky without stars if this goes on forever
if this is heaven
if this is all there is and death is a straight line drawn across a map
then the only way we can get there is flying
Alice George earned a degree in English literature and spent 17 years in pharmaceutical advertising. In 2023, she resigned to care for her mother, who was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Alice now works as a teacher’s aide to devote her time to writing and her family.
