I slept in a red cot On the SS Columbia. In the middle of the cabin, Brothers and sisters Bunked vertically On either side. Seven in all. We disembarked at Montreal, Where my sister Unclenched my white-knuckled hold On the mahogany rails. That moment was synapsed And impermeable.
My third love Taught me everything about love. Miss DeGurse, Grade One. She was taken by the dimples And the brogue, but smart me, I passed, we parted; She to her farmer fiance, Me to Grade Two And Sister Hildegarde. I learned valuable lessons, But love was already learned For a life-time outside family.
The soutane didn't fit anymore, And the incense left me distracted. The flickering shadows over the folds Of Joseph's and Mary's statues Have fewer outlines Under the light of less candles. Books replaced Church, Then illuminated religion In gold-leafed pages. Women went well with books And still enrich my every day.
Loss is all around. No eulogies or memorials, please. But remember me When you splash in July, Observe nature prepare for winter, Blink flakes off your lashes, Or bloom up and down your street; Then gather, Read something I wrote, And Remember I used to notice such things.