Mother, I Will Keep the Feast

Here where the purple spears of asparagus are dipped in rain.
Here where wild strawberries run rampant down to the spring.
Here where you are dust
and where you once gathered baskets of flowers, buds, berries
to take to your grandmother’s bed,
Here, where the nurses thought you were mad.
Woman, can’t you read? they said.
Nil by mouth nil by mouth
Nil by mouth,
the signs read.
Here where you lifted the strawberries to her face
so she could smell. Breathe
in the world and remember.
Not eat.
Here where I spread the blanket.
Here in fields of wild garlic, celeriac, thyme and chives.
Here where you lie.
Here where violets spill from your eyes.
Here where the candied roses and petals you scattered for us
on cakes after school are blown for the dead.
Here where I sit with my disbelief.