Last night was weary
thoughts of your
tomato soup with cheese
and milk for bones
you were a diligent quilter
sewing pieces of my being together
I didn't notice how perfect the pattern
you were always somewhere, just there
with calamine and mercurochrome
and night time tuck ins
last night, beneath my quilt
the chilly slap of loss
nestled in my breast
to reveal a missing square
