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This poem is taken from PN Review 229, Volume 42 Number 5, May - June 2016.

Mothball Moon Carol Mavor
‘Having been breathed out’  [Sappho]
      my mother died.                                                                                             

We folded her arms
          as if she were
          a fortune cookie
          with a secret paper tucked inside.
      Now she sits in a big jar on my father's chest of drawers
      where inside are his perfectly folded
      sweaters
      T-shirts
      socks
      boxer
      underwear.

      I want to know if the Moon
      shines inside the black hole
      of a big conch shell
      like a mothball inside a dark
      drawer, just opened.
...


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