Mother died today. Age took her. Rage took her. Toenails still unclipped. Hair in knots. Slurred speech, gone. A devil’s face. Cold to touch. Dusty bedside water. Threadbare cotton pillowcase. Air still sooty. Move the body. Featherweight as deadweight. Makes a thud. Makes me laugh. No more wheelchair. No more velour. No more wiping. No more broths. No more tea. No more orders. More for me. Empty the house. Clean the house. Fuck this house. Sell the house. Finally set free.