there’s a poet I know who shared something she’d found

a fantastic poem she has no recollection having written

details only she would know or care to cast about

*

its verses convey a voice unlike her normal fare

she recognized that straight away

as did we, her faithful poetry companions

*

how to regain this same tone, this sense of freewriting

she asks, hoping we can guide her back to this unknown place

I tap the side of her head, gently, tell her friend, it’s all in here

the last of summer’s 2nd month

wet and warm, hot and humid

a spent, wilted recipe

for baked-in wretchedness

slow-moving storm, freighted deliberation

dark, swollen clouds unburdened of rain

far away, a parched soil awaits its liberation

a poet leaves this earth

& soon, my mother follows

a driving rain falls, and falls

post-gathering analysis —

there are definite

chinks in others’ armors

*

I’m not the only one

sporting weakness,

bruises & shameful deficits

the priest incenses the casket

and whatever steely resolve I possessed,

crumbles.

*

at the cemetery,

a light drizzle mists the air.

my son takes his place with the other

pallbearers, grasps a handle

and carries Mom to join Daddy

in the rain-soaked earth.

*

scalloped potatoes & ham, buttered buns.

everyone raves about the green beans,

of all things.

*

tears, hugs, a few photos.

promises to keep in touch.

then, it’s over. done.

families return to their vehicles,

gear up for the long drives home.

*

the following morning,

the sun, she be shining, scattered clouds

in a pale blue sky.

unbearable heat & humidity, again, today.

unpacking and loads of laundry to cycle through.

I eye the backyard, wet with dew.

definitely need to mow tonight.

*

six daughters, now unofficially orphaned.

our new normal begins today.