We lose our mothers
Not on street corners
or in parks or grocery stores
though we may be mislaid
Today, I wear a dead-woman’s coat
Not my mother’s
Hers were too large
I lost myself in their embrace
as I combed through her clothes
their old-woman scent still strong on
what she wore until she couldn’t stand to dress
I pushed deeper into that closet, touched
garments she chose in middle age to flatter
her long legs, to hide her extra layers
Then Channel No. 5™assaulted me
I rushed outside
onto the balcony that
overlooks the city
breathed in that view
just as she did
until she could not