Putting mom by # 10

Putting mom by

 

Fresh ripe bossy

Tomatoes boiled into

Clear wide jars

Without consent

Waiting their destiny

 

Packing mom away

Moving her into

Clean narrow rooms

Her things divided

Beyond her touch

 

Sweet bumpy corn

Shaved off the cob

Pickled to last

Revived for

Dinner with ham

 

Mom fades with

Little grace

No longer queen

Her blue lips quiver

Never to taster

Sweet corn and ham

 

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