INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Lana Bella
Laszlo Slomovits
Amit Parmessur
Elisavietta Ritchie
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Yuan Hongri
Yevgeniya Przhebelskaya
Alex Ferde
Karyn M. Bruce
Rajuish Mishra
Alan Britt
Patrick Ashinze
Shutta Crum
Fahredin Shehu
Paul B. Roth
Helen Gyigya
Aneek Chatterjee
Joanie Freeman
Gale Acuff
Robert Nisbet
Fred Wolven
Sreekanth Kopuri
Michael Lee Johnson
Silvia Scheibli
Richard Gartee
Ali Znaidi
Jennifer Burd
John Grey
Running Cub
Peycho Kanev
Ann Arbor Review
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2019
Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
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AAR history note: in print 1967 - 1980. Irregular publications 1980 - 2004. As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 51 years all together....
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staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven
Submissions via e-mail:
Embroidery
— for Erna “Babi” Klein
She was my mother’s best
friend,
and to the end, always kind to me.
After my mother’s death,
just months
before her own, she sent me a piece
of her hand-made embroidery
—
to remember me by, she wrote.
She was
my mother’s best friend,
and to the end, always kind to me.
Framed and hung where I’d
see it
every day, where the sun would
not fade it, delayed my
forgetting.
But it’s been years, and today,
when asked about it, I
remembered
how I hadn’t remembered.
She was
my mother’s best friend,
and to the end, always kind to me.
But look how she’s come
back now,
her memory returned from where
ever it had been stitched,
from where her
ever-present smile is still wrinkling into
the present, swirling her
living room into
place around her, the embroidered table cloth,
the tea cups, saucers,
plates with the same
classic flowers, and here comes the taste
of her pastries, basted
onto my bones,
whenever my mother brought me along.
She was
my mother’s best friend,
and to the end, always kind to me.
The threads in this
embroidery will
outlast me. Her memory may die
with me. The yarn of this
poem,
who knows? But I remember her now.
She was
my mother’s best friend,
and to the end, always kind to me.
Laszlo Slomovits, Ann Arbor, Michigan