The Conversation

"My daughter comes and goes," Mom says.
"I am your daughter," I announce.
I stand by her straight green chair
and take her hand in mine.
Her head turns toward me
But her eyes stare without focus.

Bending toward her, I ask.
"Would you like a drink of water?'
"My daughter comes and goes," she answers.
From her pink plastic pitcher,
I pour the water into a cup.
I pour until I am empty.

I place the cup in her hand,
closing her finger s around it, one by one.
She raises the water to open lips,
but tilts the cup too soon.
She wants to drink,
but cannot find her mouth.

I mop the spill and get more water.
I raise the fresh cup to her lips.
She smiles, sips, and slips her hand over mine.
"My daughter comes and goes," she says.
"My mother too, " I answer,
hug her hard and kiss her.