she keeps watch
over skinny-dipping daughters
holding towels
and laughing at three moons
shining on the cloudless lake
she calls us in
we press our noses
against wet glass
as tumbleweeds turn cartwheels
in the yellow bruise of sky
she lies trembling
breast-bare
as he dissects the diagnosis
three daughter moths
flutter in fear's white blaze
she hides
the family photographs
in memory's drawer
at our next visit
we find ourselves missing
mother's ashes
blanket the bones of her first-born
beneath the lilac
the sister
that I never knew
after the crash
four white coffins
a branch
of the family tree
missing
today
my bleeding fingers
caress
the broken strings
of my late sister's guitar
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