My mother left Russia.

Came to America before the Hitler years.

Rode the Lexington Avenue subway

from the Bronx

to her job in a dress factory.

On Friday she lit candles

and kept a smaller candlestick for me.

Later to prove her memory to herself

she wrote her name over and over

on a sheet of Dad’s notepaper.

Sometimes she babbled.

Much thinner

her hair white

she is dressed, fed

and bathed by others.

In a nursing home in the Bronx

her last time there

I promise to remember her.

In a few hours she dies.

A long time East Windsor resident, Wright has published poems in newspapers,Delaware Valley Poets anthologies, Kelsey Reviews and elsewhere.

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