Is where she leaves
her messages. There was a to him
till there wasn’t.
She can’t write
away the ache of witnessing
a parent slowly evaporate
on life’s bark
while still being here. Only a temporary
empty, she’ll be retrieved—
dents banged out,
recycled, refilled.
Then she’ll rest in those concave
curves and remember the name
he gave her might mean Ash.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 
polka dots,
i don’t understand the line:
There was a to him till there wasn’t.
???
LikeLike
a “to him” till there wasn’t ?
LikeLike
thanks……….figures it would be simple…………i kept saying it in my mind until a-to-him became one word and i couldn’t grasp what
atohim meant.
LikeLike
Now I’m going to have to write a poem about an atohim.
LikeLike