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If There Are Heavens, My Mother Will
(after e.e. cummings)
By Andrea Potos
still have her lush supply of paper, those long yellow
legal pads she loved to use for reminders and lists
and commentaries about life and soul, what I bought for her
in bulk from Costco all the time though she doesn’t need me to do
that now she has her own pulse on abundance, jotting down notes
on travel clubs and book clubs and weaving clubs with the ladies
and dancing lessons with my father (former husband and first love)
who can see fully into the great wealth of her heart now, my mother
no longer needing heating pads or pain pills or ointments
for her teeth, no extra glasses of ice needed for her soda, she has
passed through the needle of wonder, gone into the gold
that suits her so well.
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