Monday, August 21, 2006

In the Pious Mansion

The crone wafted from the grand staircase
Over the hardwood floors.
I smiled and she spoke to me, she said
"There's not much light around you..."
Then she moved closer, put her cheek to my cheek.
I didn't pull away; I wanted to be nice.
"If I die tomorrow, I want you to know," she said,
"I'm not saying this to be mean.
You're not a good person."

I believed her.
We didn't stay much longer,
And then I was out in open air,
Going down the road with my son,
Listening to his music, the
Shuffle of his tiny feet, his laugh
Rippling across the new green leaves
Fanned against a bright blue sky.

C. Bronco


Bernita said...

I wouldn't be a good person either, in this case.

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