"The Missing Things" by Natalie Marino

The Missing Things

In my garden, I plant a new jasmine tree,
white flowers were my mother’s favorite.

She has been gone for years, but stars still dance
with her piano, and I still hear the whispered stories

of early mornings, of Mexican independence,
dark secrets behind my mother’s lily face.

The people had to learn new ways of war.
They were told their blood had no value,

but they were bold butterflies,
painting their path with gold.

The monarchs still leave every fall, teaching
their children the way, but some things

are missing from our books.
The winds of our collective

American memory change
the position of the trees’ leaves.

Natalie Marino

Natalie Marino is a writer, mother, and physician. She earned her B.A. in American Literature from UCLA and her M.D. from the University of Pittsburgh. She has work in or forthcoming in Barren Magazine, Idle Ink, Leon Literary Magazine, Literary Mama, Louisiana Literature, Mineral Lit Mag, and others. She lives in Thousand Oaks, California, with her husband and two daughters.

Headshot: Rose Rothwell

Photo Credit: Staff