courtesy latitudinarian, nonestablishmentarian,
sexagenarian, and Unitarian son
and modest mastermind maven maverick.

Another anniversary of her death occurs
upon advent of
May fourth two thousand and five,
not quite seventy years since her birth
November thirteenth nineteen thirty five,
nor fifty years
a married bride at age nineteen,
cuz back in dem days,
an unmarried woman
at twenty five would be
written off as a spinster.

Behind concrete walls,
entombed by damp wood and mold,
even though he loved her more,
than any master should.

He gauged her eyes one at a time,
replacing them with glass beads,
while she writhed in pain.
An unwilling compromise.

Stitched up lips, needle and thread.
His secret kept, as she silently wept,
Blood soaked tears ran down her face,
how she wished she was dead.

Mounting her head on a stick,
he fixed her hair with a sigh.
Such a shame how she bled.
As he dragged her lifeless torso to bed.

The Couple
They sit together in the amber glow of a heavenly Mississippi sunset,
Gray heads moving back in forth in unison.
Sixty plus years of rocking have worn subtle grooves in the wood of the old porch.
Gnarled hands touch in the gap between the white-painted oak rockers,
Barely clasping as stiffened finger joints protest.
She smiles at him, her eyelids downcast, the shy smile of old.
He winks a rheumy eye in response, as he did when first they met.
Hearts communicating, they stop rocking and lean to a kiss,

Before you
I was blind
I crawled and cried
as a child

my thoughts
were mere doubts,
inner shouts
that howled
and ground my awe

until you intruded
and diluted
my heart
in the world
of words' art
and in you.