Jennifer Marie

Jennifer Marie

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Second Place - 2016 ESME Writing Showcase Poetry Awards

Jennifer Marie

At two you cuddle on his bare tan breast:

He talks and rocks himself, then you, to sleep.

Lion and lamb slumber in an arm built nest,

Sweet pea breathing, dream of a rainbow’s leap.

Your memory scatters what it retains:

He held your hand with grease stained fingernails;

He played with your toys, made paper airplanes;

He died before you wore your first pigtails.

Crystal snow globe illusions shatter with death:

Our nativity broken, we tumbled from our loft,

Became fragile fragments with ashen breath.

I spoke; you took your listening ears off.

Silence simmers, daughter, within your sighs;

Jennifer Marie you have his green eyes.

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