A Blossom

I called
my mother on
her death bed. She in
and out of audible
and consciousness.
All those depths of
sleep we must drift
through towards nothing
known. A blossom
of her voice
appeared beyond
the phone in my dad's hand. 

"She's here," he said to me.
"It's Jerry," he said to her.
"Oh, I don't want to talk
to him right now."

A seed of laughter found
its place in a field in my heart.
"If not now, when?"
I said to the listener
always working that field.


by jerry gordon
4.22.2018