[Here's the next poem by L.E. Leone—enjoy!]
Emily's Mom
Every night before bed like prayers
or the 10 o’clock news
I will die to remember
your face, the look
on your face, holding
your dying husband’s hand
Looking at us. I wish
I was a camera. Wish I knew a word,
your name. Grace won’t do. Hope, I pray
to remember, to my own dying
day, on some cold, crunchy asphalt
or ice, to see you again
best case scenario in my own lover’s face.
Worst case: Wayne,
a truck driver from Indiana
Please, darling, sweetie, wear your seatbelt
Survive me. Be brave, be baffled. Don’t
be ashamed, afraid, or a psychotherapist
And Wayne, just in case, shave your neck
Emily? You stay eight and out
of the picture. Waiting in wings is what
you will do best, like an angel
or coyote, only instead of harps
and howls: the shaker.
L.E. Leone
© 2010
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