Garage Sale

by Catherine Zickgraf

She first named her daughters when they lived
in her dolls, Jessica, Susanna, Isabella — kissing
each before sleep, holding them all to her chest
when she prayed sleepy prayers into her pillow.

Facing the wall one summer night, she relaxed her
grip in the lullaby of her breath. Dad snuck in and
pried those little ones from her protective curl then
distracted her with errands the following morning.

She sobbed when she discovered Mom sold off her
babies. And yet only five, with arms full of empty,
she knew even then they’d never come home again.

Though all spirits need mothers, some mothers lack
daughters and sleep to seek them from their dreams
where she and her three adventured the air by quilt
soaring over the grass, across the moon’s wide eye.

While she grew, their doll bones remained small.
So she sent their memories back to Heaven, their
souls released to rest beside their Father, Creator.

She’s blessed now with three precious sons but still
mourns her unbirthed daughters — reaching for them
as lonely winds come breathing through her fingers.

Originally published in The Grief Diaries, September 2015

Two lifetimes ago, Catherine Zickgraf performed her poetry in Madrid. Now her main jobs are to write and hang out with her family. Her work has appeared in Pank, Journal of the American Medical Association, and The Grief Diaries. Her chapbook, Soul Full of Eye, is published through Aldrich Press. Find her on twitter @czickgraf and at www.caththegreat.blogspot.com