Friday, May 20, 2016

A Maiden Aunt





A Maiden Aunt

Wanting to arrange some words on a page,
I suddenly recall my Aunt Mary’s hands:
how, beneath the loud exuberant voice
that so annoyed my parents, unremarked,
her slim, turquoise-veined fingers
roamed alertly over the silverware and china   
she’d washed and polished earlier,
setting out the places where we’d eat
our once-a-year dinner in her home.




Sunday, May 8, 2016

Worlds



Worlds

A bright spring day, a loved one ill,
Fresh greening air, her curtains drawn.
Putting on weight with these midnight snacks
While she can’t keep down ginger ale.
Worlds so myriad, unparalleled—
Yet touching, crossing, inter-dwelt.