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Cover photo by author
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Asleep Now, No Eye Open
The last item cleaned from your dresser,
a pair of aging gloves, a wedding memento,
shoved in a plastic bag for protection,
I am unsure why things follow us after death,
collection of blouses, pants, dresses
shoes wait judgment to be kept or to discard.
closets filled with you.
little pieces of paper, with the words” Keep”
written in pencil, amidst scarves,
bags of pennies, nickels and quarters,
what do I do with this stack of faded concern?
How do I take the emotion out of
the rings and jewelry left?
Being as brief as I can,
stuffing black plastic bags,
trying to quiet the chatter left behind.
I am the oldest daughter inquisition,
rending verdict after verdict.
you are guilty mother,
guilty of being human.
after this major cleansing.
you emerge, the one who wore
white underwear,
and cotton nighties.
beauty crafted from multiple jars
face powder from England.
Anglo-Saxon pink, like the Queens.
stashed in every drawer, a holy card,
medals, and rosaries amidst Channel bottles,
too beautiful and classic to throw away.
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Thanksgiving Morning
Oven sweetness of fowl
aroma blankets the kitchen, hallway
and a certain peace descends.
parents of grown children
rose early and in tandem
washed the inside cavity
salted and stuffed the bird
into the oven before
the sun came calling.
outside no snow this year
a thin white frost must do,
to remind us of the seasons
passing and genuine care
we should take
in seeing the cycle
this feast takes.
abundance given, received
can words suffice,
to make this day notable
thankful after all.
for a moment, rest.
the stairs above us, must wait.
by this early mornings outline,
we are blessed.
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In Marriage WE Move So Different
Managing so far
We don’t drag issues out
before dinner.
I get the carrots out of the frig
The potatoes from the pantry
A large pot to brown the onions
Eating has become
the time we spend together
the benevolence of knife and fork
duty so singular in its intent.
Dinner makes it even more certain,
How alien I have become.
Sitting in a chair to eat dinner
Balanced on a plate.
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Charles
He sits in his blue footie pajamas
Gathered in a cotton throw
The Wren Building and the House of Burgesses
Woven into its design.
A bright morning that slits through
venetian blinds.
He watches cartoons, a fist of cereal in
one hand
A small plastic truck in the other.
Grandmother sits drinking tea
From a cup that says,
The University of Dayton.
In the run of things, this is what life is about
Unobserved in the coat of living.
He does not know yet,
But all activity to come,
Will be entertainment or investment
In progress.
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Funeral for a Favorite Aunt
The funeral
Is several hours away
The main actors are doing their proper parts
Recalling the blessed sheep,
Separating the goats.
They gather, greet the coffin
Awed by its final peace,
So distant from its reality.
No open casket, as she requested.
It is afternoon,
A long line of cars,
Each with its funeral flag,
Arrives at the spot.
The weather cooperates
Sending ever blue skies
and white dove like clouds.
The coffin laid over a cement vault
We gather around standing on artificial green,
Prayers and lots of God poured out,
Soon there will be a brunch
More handshaking and hugging
Arranged by custom
to comfort those left behind.
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Kathleen Carlton Johnson © 2021
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