Pattern Recognition

Scratched by sunset claws

her face dissolves in winter clay

Scales drop desiccated lashes

Cliffs threadbare, roots exposed to sky

Sun-withered, kelp drooping on old logs

No child cartwheels across that expanse

Different gulls lean against the wind

On the same trajectory

where my mother’s ashes swept away

I slowly fade in her wake


Diana Milia, 2022