pieces

ivory soap still lingers in the air
a trace of you in a public place,
a brief moment of remembering
finding you where you had never been
a stranger masked with your scent

your tissue paper still exists
under my fingertips, translucent
we read the bible, your hand in mine,
a child comforting an old woman
blue veins of life under dead, clear skin

every afghan in the world was crafted by you
burnt oranges, deep browns, strange greens,
delicate patterns for a delicate body
you layered three on your lap at once
always trembling from a persistent chill

pedicures are still a sacred ritual
a sense of pride and beauty held firm,
despite never leaving your house
a value ingrained in your set curls and nightgowns
kindness is the most beautiful trait of all

a pink crystal dish on the kitchen counter
still filled with dinner mints,
a small treat after dinner for clearing your plate
melts on the tongue in seconds
a bittersweet taste of missing you