When the women imagine their mothers in death

they lay them out in a variety of poses: mostly
on beds,

others on hospital gurneys. Pinned by fluorescence,
polished and glossed on mahogany plinths.

Purple wool suit. Nightgown with a rip at the collar.

Aura of impossibility. Flush of relief.
Cover the mirrors. When the women
imagine their mothers in death

the flowers are lovely.

Lisa Gluskin Stonestreet

Lisa Gluskin Stonestreet is the author of The Greenhouse (Frost Place Chapbook Prize) and Tulips, Water, Ash (Morse Poetry Prize). Her poems have appeared in journals including Plume, Zyzzyva, and Kenyon Review and anthologies including Nasty Women Poets and The Bloomsbury Anthology of Contemporary Jewish American Poetry. She reads, writes, edits, and procrastinates in Portland, OR. (lisagluskinstonestreet.com)



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