In the barren garden
lie abandoned bags
of Miracle Grow
scattered around brown skeletons
that stand in frozen protest.

Inside dragging through the pastels
of the dusty room she slides
her glass half empty of mother’s ruin
onto a table its tears falling down
to the surface.
They gather in a pool
on the unfinished stain
of the wood.
Sinking down
into a rocking chair,
she reaches out to touch
the vacant crib beside her.

Looking past it,
outside the hazy window
she rubs her temple
as she regards a tiny green leaf
straining for the sun.