Ann Arbor Review


Silvia Scheibli
'Deji W. Adesoye
Chris Lord
Ali Znaidi
Paul B. Roth
Umm-e-Aiman Vejlani
Lyn Lifshin
Laszlo Slomovits
Naim Kelmendi
Richard Kostelanetz
Anton Gojcaj
Duane Locke
Jennifer Burd
David Ishaya Osu
Steve Barfield
Miguel A Bernao Burrieza
Richard Gartee
Violeta Allmuca
Alan Britt

Fred Wolven
Ilire Zajmi
Running Cub
Donal Mahoney
Fahredin Shehu
Peter Tase
Nahshon Cook
Al Ortolani
Alex Ferde
Anton Frost

Michelle Bailat-Jones
Lazlo Slomovits & Jennifer Burd

Karyn M. Bruce
A. J. Huffman
Michael D. Long


Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2014 Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida

Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven


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The mystery holds us
as we hold the hand of the dearest death.
The fingers limp, cool, do not pull away,
the motherís eyes opening one last time,
filling with fear and surprise
as they contemplate the daughter
who is unable to close the book
without the need of a bookmark.




She has never looked prettier,
grey hair curling over her forehead
framing her face, furrowed lines
smoothed in death, blue-green eyes
closed, perhaps by others,
perhaps her own doing, a precaution
as she prepared to enter what she believed
to be the dazzling world of her maker.

We gave the funeral director a white lace
buttoned-to-the-neck blouse to dress
our mother who had seemed to us
throughout her 95 years almost innocent,
able to see what she wanted, to block out
ugly debris as she sewed for collectible dolls
(one couldnít play with them)
long dresses with puffy sleeves,

always putting on their tiny feet
low heeled mary jane shoes
in case they should need to run away.



Chris Lord, Ann Arbor, Michigan








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