Sunday, July 19, 2015
Eaves
"My Great-Grandma!"
Deidre brightens at
the dim attic. Night
dresses hover-
ing about dance
programs under
gummy glass,
Class-Trip snaps,
but no scrap why
she ripped out
her heart for love.
Eaves whisper thus,
not ever to a one
triumphant.
triumphant.
Labels: death, heart, love, mementos, memory, tragedy
