The 2River View 21.4 (Summer 2017)

Nickie Albert


The world is turning
and sometimes there’s

In the living room
on my old, blue couch
I watch the skyline

like television. Lights
flare on in various windows.
I look for the colors

of the Empire State,
violet and white.
What do they mean?

My mother lies
in her hospital bed

Her chest rises and falls
with each mechanical

There’s a star in the sky
just below the sash
of the window.

Some planet?  Some sun?
Sometime later I see
it has risen.

Enough to fracture
my picture.

the world has turned
a small degree
a million miles.


Mortise and tenon, hold her.
Oil and herbs, wrap her tight.

Adopting composure, I slip
into a shift, straight and classic.

Lay her out, now.
Lay her down.

Lips sown shut to keep
the jaw from slackening.

One last look
then the fire.

Now the dirt.
I stand roses by the tree.

I leave the yew.
The red berries.

Nickie Albert has placed poems in Burning Word, The Legendary, The MacGuffin, New Plains Review, Wild Goose Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Jupiter, Florida.

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