sw00616p-poem23s1

Postures 2007:  #23 Side One



Aunt Martha


Your eldest and most brilliant son
born with one of his legs
comically crooked behind his head
squeezing from his forming brain
the holy gift of abstract thought
did not silence your solo hymning
in the High Mass choir at St. Mary's
or desiccate your quiet will.

So, terminal some years after your
husband's death and the beginnings of your
second son's computer and familial success,
drugged by cancer from the daily tusslings
with those movie-bent notions of your eldest,
your smiling when my brother told you
it would be Christmas in two days
and your dying in the 2nd hour of Christmas Day

seemed right.  I venture angels choired near
as your spirit sang through midnight Mass.




- - - - -
09-18-07:  About a week ago I came upon this poem
in one of many manila folders containing writings of mine.
As I had forgotten about it, its existence surprised me;
and (for whatever reason) I didn't date it.  My guess is
I wrote in 1989.    
- - - - -


-
Brian A. J. Salchert