In View of the Fact That; Considering; Inasmuch As
perhaps she should have known
perhaps she did know
did not know precisely
perhaps she could have pieced
the clues, his constant tread-milling
cleaning up the house
putting his life in order
she would have guessed
did think it from his probable
cancer the tumors &
she was glad they were benign though
nightly she dreamt he died
did not tell him
not wanting to give voice
to Death
leaving her
the Steller’s Jay the cat brought in almost
but not quite alive
After the Eulogy
When all has been said, when we blow our noses, retire to the kitchen, remove plastic wrap, shove the proper serving utensils into steaming pans of mostaccioli and lasagna, cold cuts, cheese slices, potato salad, salad-salad, baked beans, fruit and veggie trays, ranch dressing, Rice Krispy treats, chocolate scotcheroos, cheese cakes, homemade cookies, when we’ve had our fill and are milling about or sitting down. Before we leave the church. When we are breathing again and functional. When a random guy in a black leather jacket puts his arm around me, tells me I am still hot, recalls my burnt orange Tornado, tells me the years have been kind, when he asks me if I’m happy. When I say yes. When he asks isn’t that your sister. When I say yes and she’s married. When he thinks about it and says …well don’t you have another. When I say yes and she is single … and she would surely love some company—though she does have dementia but she does recall the past vividly. When I still can’t conjure him / our past. A week later when I feel bad that perhaps I should have heard his story, when I contact a friend, she tells me how he shot his father a couple of years ago (non-fatal injuries) and he’s just hangin’ around but when pressed she recollects that at least he didn’t go to jail.
Widely published, Laura LeHew’s latest collections include: Buyer’s Remorse, Becoming, and Willingly Would I Burn. By day, LeHew owns a computer forensics consulting company. She co-hosts the reading series, Poetry for the People, in Eugene, Oregon, and edits/owns the small press, Uttered Chaos. (lauralehew.com).
