100: coma, interlude 23


my mother is fond of the claim:
gardens, time, gardens time.
Yes, she would say,
tomorrow, will another garden be.

In Richard Three:
“. . . our firm estate,
When our sea-walled garden, the whole land,
Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up”

which was, she said,
the last thing she heard him say.

I was under a tree, she said,
snipping things.  That’s all.
And he, she said, was up the deck
directing, shouting,
saying things like:
I’ll get it all back, I heard,
I’ll go the neighborhood
getting all my stuff back.
And then he quoted Richard,
on gardens or something.
Richard and then he just quite,
closed his eyes,
and went to sleep.

and that’s what
she told after I opened
the door to her
standing there,
with her little hands
closed into balls.