shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Jean Fineberg


The Cha Cha Walk

In her nursing home garden,
my mother and I shuffle 'round the Mobius path
I pluck a velvet leaf from the Lamb's Ear
and smooth it on her cheek
We sing Sinatra songs, the soundtrack of my youth
"Don't Get Around Much Anymore"
Lyrics that once clung to her neurons as I did to her breast,
exhausted, release their grip
We do the Cha Cha Walk.
One, Two, OneTwoThree, One, Two, OneTwoThree
"Mom, do you know who I am?"
"Yes," she says, "someone who loves me"