Thursday, March 7, 2013



by Charlene Baldridge

Laura Jeanne Morefield
Dallas, April 2010
I still keep your jewelry
separate from mine as if
any day you will reappear to
claim it, to wear it gloriously again.
Even in basic black you had such
style. I miss that elegance and
also the warmth and humor
that came with it.

For far too long now I’ve met you
only on the page. Spellcheck
and topography and precise
punctuation are fine, but
I long for your arms, your
lips, your voice, telling me
Atta girl, Mommy.

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