She Smiles Before She Fades.

She used to write me letters
in sweet raven-tainted cursive
with her locks.
Sunshine-imbued poetry
in a bouncing bed of curls,
her smile was a magic all its own.
His burning love
was her alabaster glow,
and it seemed that she was always pregnant
with foreign words
and switching hips.
When I cried in the dark,
she would gently cup each tear
and gild it silver,
molding my sadness
into diamonds of expectation.
I will always remember motherhood
with the sigh of a second
and the woven silence of eyelids interlocking lover's lashes;
Crippled moon
with the slight blue heart
and the dainty fingers
like pillowed daggers.
Follow me
before your descent into light.
...Hold me
before you fade.