In Her Last Year My Mother Turns Into a Crow
by Mark L Anderson
Crow Mother sits in a wicker chair on the back porch
Conversing with crows Crow Mother nests
Plush blue blankets dollar-store toys missing limbs
Clearance-rack pleather purses by the dozen
Each containing one dollar for luck begging excavation
Let witches and archaeologists and psychics and sons
Discover cute hand-painted boxes a family quilt
Of unrememberable origin National Geographics
Only slightly mouse-eaten snowcapped mountainscapes
Moss-covered stone monasteries prairie waterfalls
A pale blue dot places Crow Mother would love
To have gone in a more expansive life
Pepsi spilled on stacks of Psychology Today
How to Love and Keep Loving—How to Forgive—
The Inner Workings of a Failing Mind ziplocked
Bags of ancient bills pay-stubs birthday cards
From grandchildren memories worth protecting
Crow Mother tells stories birds understand
Singular words to hold up family history to preserve
The dust of an old farmhouse the Grand Coulee Dam
Crow Mother waitressing at diners with burnt coffee
Little boys in her apron pockets Crow Mother clipping
Obituaries for old men who tipped in so many pennies
Keeping each newspaper cutout until the names took flight
Crow Mother forgiving everyone and everything
Sprouting feathers leaving behind perfume bottles
Tchotchkes snow globes flashlights without batteries
Self-Help Books anxiety medications in orange plastic
Black mold a lifetime supply of greeting cards
Crow Mother must trade all of this in and so much more
Held precious baby teeth a good dog’s last collar
Must become light as ashes before becoming bird