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  • Cece Foley

morning/mourning

morning, clean and heady

palm trees sway against earliest black-blue

bass line crawls over and over, rippling to connect

the rhythm of two hearts

raring to keep it all in dream


sun begins to show as 6 a.m. beckons,

bagel shop opens,

to lives built on Saturdays, in the park (think it was the fourth of July…)

the earthy man engrossed in flow reminds me of Dad


sun climbs between us and we u-turn to watch from the beach,

the beach who is bathing in pink

pink sky, pink ocean, white sand

glowing, pink

and soft, early blue

like all is enveloped in seashell

like I am looking through mom’s eyes

each footstep beating the tune of remembrance, remembrance


her memory tumbles in, fast and heavy

a voice echoing all around

it is hard to enjoy

when the freshest memories are of how much she could not


i lose the dream, as my gaze moves from beautiful surroundings to frightened insides


I let my heart melt, and gaze at the bubbling puddle;

purple satin, hot blue pain

licks my toes, unhinges jaw

readies to swallow...

but I am at the ocean with my friend

is there nothing I can do?

maybe show her the hot, hot blue

maybe she has faced something like that, too.

if not, I can try to explain

and we will have a new color to share.


there is lots we can do with this hot hot blue.

we can cry,

make an ocean of our own,

salty snot on my green sweater.


we could dance, slow and open, letting different shades sparkle and bloom

letting the presence of plants and moonlight

wash it into a new hue


knowing that this color will die one day, too.




[Fall 2020]

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