((A Tribute to a Mother) (Forty-two days))
She
stared at him from the top of the stairway,
in the center of the arch of the door
Settling
into it, with only minor adjustments—,
It
was a long stare, as he opened his car door,
ready to drive out of the garage—:
She
looked as if she wanted it to be just right,
because it was going to there
forevermore,
Thereafter.
He asked: “Why are you staring?”
“Because
I want to…” she said.
He
was puzzled: and having said what he said
did not break her moment; she was
Determined
to have it: lest God himself forbid.
He
glared at her for a moment longer, her pose
captive, her eyes old and melancholy,
He
smiled, stepped into his car, drove out of
the garage—that was in the spring of
2003.
Now,
he understood why the long stare, and the
quiet exaltation, about her way…
Time
was short: had he known she would die
in forty-two days, had he really known
this
And
perhaps she did: he would have sunk
into some mental darkness, gotten
Physically
sick, sooner than later…
#3367 (July, 2, 2012)
