Saturday, January 24, 2009

Sympathy Card

Our neighborhood is shocked over the death of a young girl, and I cannot help but imagine what her family feels. Thinking about my casual family dinner last evening, there's this:

Call It a Day

Bassoon's cucumber sound,
spoonful of low notes
to fatten a day brisk with laundry,
robust soup in a new pot--
dice, chop, boil, simmer and serve
a promise of clean sheets.
Murmuring over a salad of
fourth-grade spelling bee,
office politics, what the dog
dragged in, chewed, spit out.

Castled against yellow crime tape,
remains in a nearby ditch--
female with boots--call it
Friday Supper. Oh, call it
refuge at the table.
Offer carrot cake if you can,
cold milk, and a good night.


Dapper Fellow said...


Yeah, we are struggling with many, many, too many violent deaths of young people, male and female, in the Big Easy. The older I become the sadder I grow about the idea of solving one's problems with a weapon.

I really like all the kitchen in your poem.

You write a pretty good line, gal.

Karen Douglass said...

Thanks, it's a sad and scary thing.

faqh said...

"Castled against yellow crime tape" Wow. A line beautiful to register a horrific crime.