In Passing

She was caught unawares in the midst
of an afternoon maj Jong game,
released from a hand she played


Attached to tubes and the hum of machines,
unaware of the afternoon news
or what happened in the half-finished book
she left on her kitchen table

I talked to her
letting my words flow
Her hand resting in my hand
"I love you," I said


Did I imagine
her fingers moving
in response?


In death my mother
released the props,
Maj Jong tiles, a collection of thimbles,
a pin cushion, her tea cups and saucers,
a half-finished book.