On The Day We Always Thought Was My Mother’s Birthday
Lyn Lifshin

I won’t think of her
last May 28, how she wanted
fruits and flowers and a
ride in the mountains,
couldn’t handle either.
Clear air in this city she
never came to, except in
dreams. I’m on my way to
ballet. If she was here.
she’d wander Connecticut Ave
then wait for me in Cosi.
She’d probably tell me my
skirt was too short,
shake her head at how I
ruined my hair. She would
remember when my hair was
silk, color of wheat
falling in my eyes and
hiding them and I’d remind
her my hair was never
blonde and then take
her arms, leaning tho
she wouldn’t need it yet
as if that way we’d never
have to move away
from each other

Lyn Lifshin has written over one hundred and twenty books and she has edited four anthologies. Her recent books include: The Licorice Daughter: My Year With Ruffian (Texas Review Press); Another Woman Who Looks Like Me (Black Sparrow at Godine), following Cold Comfort and Before It’s Light, Desire and 92 Rapple.  Also out recently: Nutley Pond; Persephone; Bararo: Beyond Brokenness; Lost In The Fog; Light At The End; Jesus Poems; Ballet Madonnas; Katrina; and Lost Horses. Her forthcoming works include: Chiffon; All The Poets Who Have Touched Me, Living And Dead;
All True: Especially The Lies; and Ballroom. Her web site is www.lynlifshin.com

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