Sheree La Puma
I Dream of Summer with My Dead Daughter
before your wedding.
before the heat of a morning sun
penetrates the cold of skin. before we sit
up top a comforter listening to a
chorus of waves.
before surf unrolls on sand.
before a carpet of blue, grey, & white
beckons us to swim free of wounds,
pressed deep. before divorce robs
you of childhood.
i stroke your curls
with the soft of my hands. make
promises i cannot keep, feast
on the sweet of you,
sacrificed.
today, memories come like bomb
blasts. roots are dying here. let
me weep now. later, i will shed my
mother skin like bark on an old
sycamore.
no longer needed in the dark
nights ahead. i rise with the sun.
we part ways like strangers. i
dream of summer. you grow
new leaves.
Sheree La Puma is an award-winning writer whose personal essays, fiction, and poetry have appeared in or are forthcoming in WSQ, Chiron Review, Juxtaprose, The Rumpus, Plainsongs, Into The Void, and I-70 Review, among others. She has a micro-chapbook, The Politics of Love, due out in August and a chapbook, Broken: Do Not Use, due out in Fall. She received an MFA in Writing from California Institute of the Arts and taught poetry to former gang members.