Memories of Her

mystery like midnight-sausages and
caramels melting on sweet tongues
their turquoise wrappers lined up on porch railing
and sparkling in a summer sun

her grass was always greener
sloping steep upon a hill
where my spindly arms swung
in euphoric circles with the dandelion air

no memory of her joining me
pragmatic and composed with
a voice both stern and gentle
masking a human more deep than
I had the privilege to know

only glimpses through photographs
that knockout rose on porch steps
wearing coconut and straw woven
with stories purposefully vague
for they were meant to be buried
with the passed

she was sharp, you got that right,
a mind that wouldn’t dull
in all her ninety years
rapt with puzzled words
and magazines by the bagful
keeping up with who’s who
and what’s what

a Bible on her table and Jesus on the wall
I watched with fixation
wondering if tears would ever fall like
he was living between oil and canvas
weeping for what he saw
in that narrow trailer on a hill
where sleeves rolled up
to bare it all

armored wings of resilience
until the very end
years {a condensation of breath}
so fragile
but yet her heart beat strong