for my mother
Every Friday, you waited
for me to take you shopping.
You sat in your garage
on my old student chair;
the door was up, and you looked out
into the world with a fixed stare.
Were you ever late for anything?
You were even early for your funeral.
Younger, I used to worry
I’d turn out like you. Now,
I sit by the hotel window,
five minutes before my brother is due,
checking my watch and smiling,
staring at the mirrored sea.
Maree Reedman lives in Brisbane with one husband, two cockatiels, and five ukuleles. Her writing has been published in the United States and Australia in various magazines and journals such as Chiron Review, Naugatuck River Review, Unbroken, Stickman Review, Grieve, Hecate, StylusLit, and The Big Issue. She has won Ipswich Poetry Feast awards and was recently shortlisted in the inaugural Melbourne Ukulele Festival songwriting competition.