A mother perches
terribly on a
balck, slate roof.

Watching from a sill--
neck pressed against glass,
is her girl.

A moment desperate--
an eerie knowing--
the goodbye.

The mother slips.

Her body sounds of
sandpaper and skin
as she falls.

"Cut the cord!" she screams
just before the edge.
She is gone.

Her daughter wonders
of her word's meaning,
then she knows.

Not life-support, nor
anything more than the
umbilical.