Portrait of My Mother

Let me place you on the deck, like it should have been

With the tips of your toes grazing the water

I’ll make it so that it quivers

 Lazily with the brush of a breeze

And let the color be green

Or pastel turquoise, like your necklace  

So that it does not overshadow

The radiance of your lips 

Which I’ll curve gently

In a casual smile, as if you didn’t know

That I was there, and you were just happy

Stretched bellow the blades of orange light

I’ll make them razor sharp

Puncturing the center

Of your belly, poking

Playfully like a child

Not fire bright,

Carrot orange –

The last fuming flickers of the day

Before the chilling moon

Which, I’d make silver like cold metal 

But I want the day to look mild, not too warm

So that it does not take from the comfortable

Grip of your lustrous eyes

I’ll gloss them neatly, like polished pearls

They’ll be perfect spheres of tender

Brown, to complement the smoothness

Of your suntanned skin

Glazed in russet

Like a dress of wet sand,

And auburn hair will latch

Faithfully to your freckled shoulders

The damp ends spread out like the fingers 
Of an open hand 
And it’ll all look blissful

As if no one was ever there