How you want to love age
with its fingers like boiled shrimp,
make jokes about how things
have gotten to this.
It is the reason why you keep pictures
of him from your wedding day in a frame
because frames square it up as a thing
you can point to and claim
what wisdom lives in a bowl of soup.
Not being from
Kentucky,
he was unable
to hold
his bourbon.
His face,
like clay,
had become
malleable.
And his words,
like water,
were murky .
I barely steer,
none of the static of stupid in my ear.
Nothing along the bank attracts my eye.
I just float in the flow and don’t ask why.
breakfast in a butter dish
binoculars in hand
balcony for hours and hours
bugle in the band
barter for a painting
bilirubin low
boxes scattered here and there
beagles on the go
‘bachelor’ on the boob tube
brownies on a plate
bubby calls to sissy
bubby doesn’t wait
books due on the 15th
better pay your fines
bullets flying e’rywhere
birdnests built in vines
it started with the oatmeal
and apples in the dish
now where’d i put that butter?
to find….. my only wish
Puppeteering princess with pigtails races
through with squealing Barbies in a pink car chased
by prancing shelties clicking closely behind
annoying lawyer armed with hammer lords over tv screen
while ceiling fan whirs overhead
grinding ice clinks into a glass in the kitchen
My mind grinds to a halt
In a world of constant motion and chaos
calm confidence rests in silence
Reading held at arm’s length
glasses planted atop the salt and pepper
he sits across the room in concentrated study
21 years of life together
gratitude whispers
reminds me
silver is gold.
