1
Tossing in a twin bed by the window,
Cathy distilled the world’s platter
to blackberry juice and Mother’s tapioca.
2
As she surged, she dreamed of ocean
waves; the teddy bear, steady in its chair,
its eyes a constant horizon.
3
She begged us to carry her to Hawaii,
collapsed on the steps before the trip,
crushing her hope of absolution.
4
Would Peter build a hot tub to soak
her riddled bones? For days he dug
into the slope, leaving her with me.
5
One by one she asked if we would
judge her if she took the pills;
one by one we said we loved her.
6
Peter lit a fire that formed a cloak
around us, brought glasses and a pitcher
of water to drink while she drank.
7
Climbing into the sleeping bag, raised
her fist—I did it!—and fell asleep.
Six hours we wept, caressing her body.
8
I heard her soul ring through the house—
like a boat, tolling its bell as it departed.
Caroline Cottom's poems have appeared in Santa Fe Literary Review, Silk Road, Serving House Journal, Pennsylvania English, Broad River Review, and The 64 Best Poets of 2018, among others. Her memoir, Love Changes Things, Even in the World of Politics, chronicles her role in ending nuclear testing in Nevada.