by Sheina Medwed
Mama, if I could give you anything,
I would give you softness.
A room of silken fabrics
filled with lamb's wool
and pussy willows,
hummingbird feathers to stroke
and kittens
to rub their angora backs against you.
Through the windows would spill
the wine-steeped rays
of dawn and twilight,
and the air would sing golden
with harpsichord and flute.
Honeysuckle, lilac and rose
would be the doorframe's latticework.
Everyone who entered
would speak in a whisper.
And every word would be a word of love.