Kristine Barrett's "To Mother in Heaven" (1981)

The flowers you left for me
I found and pinned them to
my hair upon my wedding
day. And under a mountain
in Africa was found
the diamond you buried. Of
the gold of south America
was pressed the band I wear.

I think of you often.

I walk along the beach
and do not find your footprints.
But the shards of sun
you sowed, I follow towards
the veiled horizon.

I drove once through Wyoming
and saw how you had matched
the sage and mustard flowers
pretty little violet
wilds. It was lovely
Your letters haven't yet
beend found and bound.
black seeds lie upon
white snow or flocks aflight
embroider dawn, I look
for your writing.

At pollinating time
last year, close by the honey-
suckle, I breathed the air
of your perfume and
if you had come perhaps
and I had missed you.

I try to remember what you
look like. Some nights
through my
reflection in our high window
I see the stars and think
I see strung diamonds plaited
in your hair. I think
if I could look into
the sun, I would see your

I want to know your name.
I know it is livelier than
or Sarah or Eve. Can you
please whisper it to me?
What is your name?

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