Great grandfather, I'm sorry you
drank boric acid and killed
yourself, it must have been a long
and miserable way to say to hell
with life.  A confusing legacy
left to your succeeding kin
who thought maybe your
heart went boop, or
a streetcar called
No Desire wrote
your final
history.

They ask have we turned
the corner away from
hell toward sun
& lofty ideals?

I am no judge
open your
rosebud
eyes &
see.

Brother, this all you need to know about my life --
I live near a river where hawks **** & coyotes
run past with varments in their jaws
to be eaten-- fur, sinew
& bone.

Hair mottled like
an aged mare

she descends
the steps

one withered leg
dangles from

a  purple dress like
a frost nipped

cornflower.

Woman with no
shoes and rag

dress, don't jump from the roof
of your three-story
apartment building,

wait until
it's on
fire.

From a straight back wooden chair, I see
a cyan-blue ceramic bowl filled with
tangerines next to a desktop radio
tuned to NPR &

out the kitchen bay window
birds bicker over seeds
overflowing a feeder,
& a raccoon scours
the earth below --

I keep in mind the fact
all of these things will
be absent from my
sight one
day.