Tuesday 5 November 2013

1 Poem by Linda Benninghoff


In the aftermath of Sandy
my mother broke her hip,
running in slippers to put a leash on our dog.
We stood in gasoline lines for weeks,
while Mother went under anesthesia
came out in a happy haze
and went from the hospital
to a rehabilitation center.

Everything happened fast.
I felt like a crow
turning its wings
on a lift of air,
or flailing on a telephone wire.

I wanted to see my mother again.
I wanted to cook food,
have light in the dark.

Now she still walks with a cane,
I wait home every morning
to watch her climb the stairs,
and the cane makes a hard echoing sound,
like stone against stone,
like dolphins using radar
to find what is beneath the stone,
the swimming fish,
the life of the sea that continues.

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