honoring dad’s last wishes
he places mom’s worn Bible
at her bare feet
night clouds
an occasional twitter
in the bird sanctuary
Tanka
above the purple sage
storm clouds roil and rumble
like a herd of black cows
seems I hear the old Victrola
ghost riders off-key
anchored to a porch post
in her silken sanctum
a black and yellow spider
a café of choices within her grasp
grasshopper, wasp, or fly
Free Verse
Graduation
Oma
Lee, my sister, was pretty
as Hedy Lamar in that white dress.
My heart leapt when the principal
called her name. I waved at her,
but she didn’t look.
After the ceremony, she came to say
the Crosses were having a party
for Kathleen, valedictorian. “Mr.
Cross will drive me home,” she said.
Mama and Papa let her go.
The Crosses were good people.
They would take care of her.
Who knew the world could change
in a few hours? That there was no
party, that Oma Lee was running
away with a married man accused
of cheating clients in real estate deals.
That she would be lost to us forever.
