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