Daughter As Golden Retriever
by Karen Stromberg


My mother no longer lives in my world.
Her world lurches from side to side.
It's my job to guard her—to stay by one elbow
and nudge her back to her destination.
It's my job to pen her in an armchair
pushed against a table, to fetch
her paper and her cup of coffee.
It's my job to sit by her side
and wait.






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