It’s better than he deserves,
a granite marker next to Mama’s.
Such a pretty place, a crisp white
church on a green hill. Dogwoods
blooming. I couldn’t do otherwise
or people would be suspicious.
His death so sudden after Mama’s.
She made me promise to take care
of the kids and of him, but that
didn’t mean sleeping with him.
I warded him off, but saw that
wouldn’t be possible forever,
me only sixteen and built slight
like Daddy who was killed in the mine.
I couldn’t leave the kids. Didn’t
have a place to go anyhow.
I planned it out. A dose of Mama’s
medicine in his toddy each evening.
Old Doc marked it down as heart attack.
I’m planting a Peace rose at his feet.
When it blooms, a glory of yellow
and pink, I’ll bring the kids here.
We’ll picnic under the dogwoods,
read the marker: Requiescat in pace.
