• Alexsondra Tomasulo

In Gratitude Of The Last Piece




the years have passed,

memories of my mother

are spread across the floor

like colorful pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

i have put them together a thousand times,

each time creating a different picture

and each time ending with one piece missing.

i’ve scoured the corners of the house

hoping beyond measure for sight

of that single and most pertinent piece,

the one shining slice of truth

that would complete

my tapestry of unresolved mystery.

on occasion, i was certain i saw it, but,

as before, it was only a vapid dust bunny.

i have long since surrendered.

i expect i will find it on my way home.

how perfect that she would save the last piece

ensuring my safe return into her arms.

a.tomasulo




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