*** of magic soup
mother toiling
leftovers boiling

a kitchen *****
making food for a dozen
with leftover magic

chicken soup first
a ratatouille iteration
mixo mysterioso: gumbo?

a shape-shifting soup

amazing Grayce fed us
dressed us, taught us:
love.

the feeling cleansed part I like
those tears
though they
hurt
and the things that lead up to  blood red
eyes
tears down to your chin
and those breathless deep sobs
where you can't catch a breath
thrash out
hide your head under pillows
they are the worst kind
they make me cry in and of theirself
which adds to the depth and hurt
of why I am crying
in the first place
but the cleanse when it stops
I swear I see rainbows

My grandparent's house
ten-kid-large and sinking
on the corners of remembrance
Remodeled now, to
...tenements

Honeycomb
...the remnants

Irish immigrant and Scottish orphan's child
She sang on the ferry
He fell in love
"The rest is the history of us...."
Wide
as the Connecticut River, grieving--
in their sunset....
____

This-- chair
is his

I am afraid of it-- of his learning
of the shiny badge pinned to his coat
of his dying...
Golden leather of it
soothes
his memory--
of another continent
of the once warmth-- of a distant hearth
so darkened now--
where his head once rested
...his hands
and,
I fear--
his mind....

I will not sit in it
as if he will come back, to take his place
I am afraid of him--
with his chair--
all worshipful and empty
like a high place, abandoned
to the heart attack
not for grandchild play
Seat of Authority
still stamped
beside the standing cold--
brass ashtray
Pipe smoke imagines itself
against the ceiling in the words
of Yates and Milton
He read to them
and somehow--

Paradise is Lost....
_____

This house is cold now-- even in the summer-- cold
Worn as only large families wear
The War
of waiting shadows
--four brothers who were spared

Anna Mae, in charge, too young,
worries in abrupt dark
of dinning room
Her face, haunted--
an archway-- ever empty
by the large and ghostly table
covered by its web of lace--
a bridal veil
of Catholic impossibility...
Anna Mae, held hostage by her thoughts
of darling, Sean...

Aunt Lil's “breakdown”
with cigarette and thorazine  
quaking quiet in her corner

Aunt Nell,
as blind as smart-*** hell
ironing, darning
with threads that thatch
the wounded socks
Holds it all together, scolding--
Brought the welcomed jelly donuts
sneered as Yankees clobbered Boston
all-- while drinking yellow ale

Uncle Eddie-- laughing hoarsely
cracks nuts over a wooden bowl

ten thousand tears
fall to your memory
enough to water
a grove of magnolia trees

ten thousand joys
remembered there
give light and sun
to the soul, stripped bare

and as those trees
grow with light and water
we sit and revisit sorrow and joys
and contemplate, the art of bee's
to bring colour to the palest day
before leading us home
to hive and life, leaving behind
toys and strife....before we succumb
before we falter...to the melancholy
of those that remain

on
  the
     river
where
  
a twig
  leaf
    a bit of
there

float
   down
       stream
aware

the tug
    tow
       drift
abounds

I feel
    almost
        calm
surrender

to life's
     magnets
         cores
electrons

all that's
      in me
          deeper
where

I feel
      that
            draw
that

picture
       of a curve
            an undertow
framed

in sudden
      cold a
           splash
wetter

than any
       euphism
            I spew
******

Donuts on doorsteps of Chateaux in Chesburgh
Coffee sipped black and enjoyed super strong,
Evening on terraces’ gold light at sunset
Wish you were here, babe, to **** up the song.
Glint in the eye of a softness and ****
Laughter rings loud at the humour in air
Magical moments, when cups runneth over
Sand twixt the toes and sweet wind in the hair.
Move to the beat of that rhythmical rumbah
Twitch as the petticoats flash as we glance,
Spinning in sensuous glide with the music
Sweat running down a wet back as we dance.

Memories flash of those magical moments
Tasted with relish of tang and no care,
Donuts on doorsteps of chateaux in Chesburgh
Laughter in eyes and a song in the air.

M.
Europe 1979

River bamboo arrayed in lace tiers
consoles the birdbath on its loss of robins
Intemperate August staggers in liquored air
of wavery heat and layered sighs

Leaves relinquish their rush
toward this “ripe on time”
Blackberry brambles have ceased to reach
now bow to ponder their plunder
while petunias, those bold delinquents!
bloom as if the frost’s lethal cling
were some myth
the antique roses had made up

Bud, bloom, revive!
See the generation of the bee!
Bud, bloom, survive—
to do it all again
for the single sake...
of treasuring beginning in the end...

Her bicycle, my geranium
have found eternity together
on the sun spattered patio

She—
opens the screen door
as I—
climb the morning stairs
She—
squints smiles amongst sleepy freckles
who has not brushed her hair
in a late August moment of not caring

And I know it will all happen anyway
no matter what I do....