Sis Carolyn's photo
HAIKU
the clear creek’s coldness
rustling over gravel bar
a sassafras leaf
~ ~ ~ ~
the scent of kudzu
along the walking trail
a pair of redbirds
~ ~ ~ ~
The white-haired woman
way older than 13
---seven decades older--schleps
book bag and computer
valise
with one hand, pulls
herself forward with
the other that holds
onto the railing, up
13 wooden steps
to the landing; she
rests a beat,
takes 13 more steps to
the main floor,
rests another beat,
then shifts bags
to one-per-hand, walks
13 steps to Number
Three, tries
13 keys before one
fits. In her room––
newly-decorated—she
counts 13
Safari-themed
artifacts:
framed prints, wall
hanging,
statuette, candles,
desk lamp with elephant
base.
She was the first of 13
siblings.
When hepatitis surged
through
the family, the doctor
visited
13 times in as many
days.
She’s lived in 13 rent houses,
Thirteen new homes now
abide
on the
once-family-owned hayfield.
Thirteen pieces of
cobalt blue
glass shine from her
south windows.
She was born on the 13.th
Perhaps
when she dies the
family will wait
till the next 13th
rolls around to
see her buried.
[PUBLISHED IN 2019 MSPS GRIST]
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