No Name For It

In the dream my mother is still alive and dances to a gramophone

And past her, outside the window, snow is falling–tenderly reminding me

That she is dead. And the singer is dead–Dinah Shore–“Mother

May I Go Out Dancing?” How quickly the record spins

And the glint of the long needle. Winter night in the country….

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Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto