my mother is wondering why
i haven't visited her,
lately.
but with the snow
on the ground
and the cold wind,
the ice,
i'm sure she realizes that
i'll never
find the location where they
buried her
five summers ago.
there's not a stone
with her name on it.
or a marker, no statue,
or cross,
no map to mark
the spot,
no bench for us to sit on,
to wile away the hours,
and talk.
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