At 94, my mother became mortal. 
She didn’t want to end 
her life this way—in her words, 
pathetic, helpless. She was ready 
to leave, but her body wanted 
to stay; her body, fighting 

to escape the deathbed, one pale limb 
poking through the bars, frail arms 
struggling to thrust her up. Life 
was demanding more while Death 
made its own demands. 

My mother, who had so long 
awaited, even invited, this moment, 
began her silent dance. So unused 
to finding her without words, 
I couldn’t find my own. 

When she left this world, 
she was alone in her room; 
the med school whisked her away 
before I had the chance 
to hold once more her bony hand 
folded in mine, a fistful of twigs. 

Tamara Madison

is the author of the chapbooks The Belly Remembers (Pearl Editions) and Along the Fault Line (Picture Show Press, 2022), and three full-length volumes of poetry: Wild Domestic and Moraine (Pearl Editions, 2011 and 2017) and Morpheus Dips His Oar (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions, 2023). Her work has appeared in A Year of Being Here, Chiron Review, ONE ART, Shelia-Na-Gig, The Worcester Review, Writer’s Almanac, Your Daily Poem and many other publications.

Author’s website:
https://tamaramadisonpoetry.com