 Wysłany: Śro 7:18, 02 Mar 2011 Temat postu: the red-
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| breath inflates the sails of her lungs. Silence.
I gather up her reekingwasted body into my armsand she is perfectshe is my own perfect beautiful Mama againfor just a momenteven as her bones jut against my breasts and her head lollseven as her cancer-laden belly mimics fecundity she rises up in memory shininglaughing released: free. Footsteps in the hall. The door opens and Etta’s voice. “Clare? Oh— christian louboutins 2011!” I lower Mama back to the pillowssmooth her nightgownher hair. “She’s gone.” SaturdaySeptember 121998 (Henry is 35Clare is 27) HENRY: Lucille was the one who loved the garden. When we came to visitClare would walk through the front door of the Meadowlark House and straight out the back door to find Lucillewho was almost always in the gardenrain or shine. When she was well we would find her kneeling in the bedsweeding or moving plants or feeding the roses. When she was ill Etta and Philip would bring her downstairs wrapped in quilts and seat her in her wicker chairsometimes by the fountainsometimes under the pear tree where she could see Peter workingdigging and pruning and grafting. When Lucille was well she would regale us with the doings of the garden: the red- headed finyilai: nike high heels jist edjackly trueen no jokin' en no liesMars Tom |
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