Thursday, October 16, 2008

Executive Assistant Purchases Spring Flowers

At six thirty sharp she rises from her firm mattress,
tucks her tresses into a pony tail, pads across the
patterned carpet to a stationary bike standing
near an eastern window overlooking the small

cemetery directly below. Each morning while
riding her bike nowhere—sweat beads gathering
in her lean cleavage, bluish veins bubbling along
her thin thighs, skimpy arms---her eyes wander

back and forth across the cracked and chipped
grave markers. Sometimes she parks in her
allotted condo space, wanders into the cemetery:
Jasper Massey, 1877-1899, is nearest the low,

crumbling rock wall separating final resting
places from SUVs and Lexus sedans. Yesterday
she walked briskly to a far corner of the grave
yard which she often fixes on from her high seat.

The tiny, moss covered heart, leaning askew:
Melissa Avery, Infant Daughter of Cary & Oswald
Avery, Left To Be With God After Only Three Days.
She Was Too Good for This World. God Took Her.

Kneeling in front of the heart, she leaves a
handful of supermarket jonquils for Melissa.
Swiftly, spike heels dig deeply into soft soil.
Her stationary bike has waited all day.

1 comment:

Isabella said...

Such a good poem, thank you