I got a pedicure the day you died.
I was numb and shocky, couldn’t bear
to bury you without looking as good
as I knew you'd have wanted me to be.
In the chair I blurted out, "I'm going
to my mother's funeral." Today
I took that polish off my toes, replaced
with periwinkle, luminous and bright
like your big string pf pearls you do not know
are mine now that you’re gone. I can’t text you
the nail polish emoji as a way
of showing where I am. But hi, Mom, from
the temple of appearance, holy place:
in making myself shine, I honor you.
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