Nana’s smile.
Curlers in her hair.
Her laugh, her jokes.
Insulin on the table.
The dishwasher I broke.
The song she sang me to sleep.
“I Love Lucy” reruns.
“The Golden Girls.”
The loud fan in the bathroom.
The sink I split my lip on,
She held towels on my mouth.
The tree that hugged her car after a storm.
Oxygen tanks.
The wheelchair my brother pushed.
Rosaries on the dresser.
Suffocating nursing home smell.
Hospital noises.
Yellow roses.
Lysol
Lysol
Lysol
Those nails I used to paint.
Her waxy hand in mine.
The tears that spilled down my face,
Down ours,
Down to hell.
We were stuck in hell.
My mother played an angel.
What I’ll never forget?
The last thing I said to her,
The last thing I always said:
“I love you.”
She crawled out,
Now we can breathe again:
“She’s dancing with Patrick Swayze in heaven.”