Poem 11, June 11


Lynn Phillips


I have lived in the present

Lynn told me

as I installed an air conditioner

in the window of his mobile home

as he lay dying on his bed

while I worked outside,

looking in.


I have smelled the scent

of my mother’s red rose he told me

by her door before the inquisitor

came & asked her to go home.

When she went to be forever dead,

I dug it up & I cried.

I became a politician.


I learned never to repent

for past indiscretions. You see,

just like that air conditioner,

I influenced people, some

many I gave bread.

I’m about to go out with the tide

& I beg you to keep the tradition.


 Tend to Mother’s rose when I am gone.