What’s left of you is in boxes,
Mother-that-kissed-goodnight.
Who introduced us to stallions and
Bullet hole portraits of John Wayne.
How to be on trail. Avoid poison oak,
Ivy. How to avoid horse buck.

Your parents stopped praying
The rosary after you went terminal.
Reader who believed in a book
For her and a book for the kids.
Stephen King and R.L. Stine.

What remains of you are stills. Above the refrigerator.
Beside the TV.
One of when unseen bass swam through your shins.
Rivers rose and drowned the lilly pads.
Sunk the cattails. You wore the geranium dress,
Murky up to your knees. A hand on the dog.

You’re coffin’s in the ground,
Kathryn. The prenatal nurse.
The one who brought hers to
Rainbow island for fish and family,
Not for lighting clap and sideways rain.
But don’t worry, never mind that.

Thanks to cancer, you are bones.

Some believe you were reborn a cardinal. Nested
To watch your children listen for bats at dusk.

Their echoes unconfirmed,
And your songs too faint.

Woman who rode a motorcycle.
Who brought her children
Camping in thunderstorms
Where the wind and rain clapped
Against their tent sheets.
Your memorial service is over.
Coffin in the ground.

Woman who read a book every week,
Who introduced her children to Holes.
Grandmother stopped praying the rosary.
What’s left of you is in boxes now.
Only certain pictures remain.
Through the bass ponds
Rivers rose and drowned the lilly pads.
You wore that dress,
Water up to your knees.

You’re dead, but
The storm front
Reincarnated you as a
Cardinal.
No heaven.
But paradise.

Perched, watching
Your young listen
For bats at dusk.
Imagining they had
A story to tell.

This fruit from Assam,
This sour species of
Evergreen,
Don’t forget I was a
Child hugging their mother,
Watching her eat you
As she read ‘Salem’s Lot.

Remember I rode horses
With her in Carver,
And we fed them apples
In our winter coats.
Remember she took me
To museums
And stood behind while
I read about Chippewa
And wild rice paddies,
About Leech lake
And the Battle of Sugar Point,
About Minnehaha
Hiawatha,

And…

I went with her to Disney World
And she sat with me
While my asthma stung,
Listening to Orlando rain.
I smelled pine on the
Rag used to wipe
Her forehead.
I watched the Chemo
Needle take her vein.
I ate you silently
The morning she.

Sister of Citron,
Know that I will never
Forget the sound of her teeth
And hard candy,
the
Click
the
Clack
the Yellow Heart,

the Sound of You.

for all those that had and have to.

Because my father drank and forgot to shop.
Because sometimes barren shelves can make
Me say “yum” to trouble. Bring it on. Just watch.
See if I don’t form a meal out of a fifteen minute browse.
See if I don’t howl “jackpot!” when I arrive back home.
See if I don’t have the family opening bags and sneaking bites
And turning stovetops and laying plates and stocking fridges and
Filling glasses and grabbing utensils and smelling the score and finding
Themselves laughing as their full bellies take form.

Because after awhile I enjoyed it. I found thrill
With resistance and risk and crime and trouble. A way
To spite to the abandoners. The ones that made me sniffle
At night and feel weak and worthless. Unloved.
No more!
When I walk into a store and save $20 I am sure that when
My dad relapses I will have a backup plan beyond the grandparents
That turn pale and tired each time they get one of those calls.
No more!
They’re old enough and so am I; and plus, there will be moments when
Those calls will come after 911 and they’ll have to speed over to the house.

Because I got away with it.

Because the television was on.

Because free is non-existent.

Grab the ground, your
Feet are pressure sensitive.

Despite the cold you
Felt the give, the one
Day blooming.

You've been walking
Since Skadi first came,
And now this surrounding,
Soil slipping through your
Hands like marbles.

Where does it land?
What do you hear?
Is that an engine?

"Who gave you right to break ground?"
"Show me your deed!"
"My God man, are you not human!"
"What is yours without a signature, sir, do please tell me that!"

With the proceedings completed,
What remained was recollecting:

1, A Vigil

Where the mourners aligned themselves to weep or stare
Into the casket, amazed by the skills of the mortician,

“She looks at peace,” they said to us, calmly brushing her cool
Head before walking back to their seat, thinking about when they



Last saw our mom alive, something her
Friend Rhonda remembered vividly,

Barley able to walk from the diabetic neuropathy, Rhonda worked her way
Over to the couch where my sister and I sat, leaning heavy on her right
Crutch to outstretch her left hand:

“If I close my eyes, I can still see Kitty thumbing the tab of her Coke can at my dining table.
We were going back and forth about our New Years plans. She was a good woman, your mother, and a great friend to me. She will be missed by so many. I’m sorry.”

She was sweating and had swollen eyes, we smiled and
Nodded and squeezed her hand back, we said thank you and
Took the first opportunity to run downstairs,

Sarah McLachlan’s version of “In the Arms Of An Angel” played as
Theme music to the eulogies. One given by our dad, who reminded
Everyone that our mom worked nights at the hospital. He said by his
Count, she had probably held over 10,000 babies before she was sick,
10,002 if you included my sister and me. The thought lingered,
The silence persisted, and the song played again,

Now the background to a tribute given by our mother’s parents, who remembered
Raising a daughter that bought a motorcycle and decided to visit
Them on it as often as she could, no matter how much they disapproved, she was
A rebel but they loved her, they said they had six babies go to God
Before she came into the world, in the arms of an angel was the chorus of the song,
And they believed this is where their daughter was now,

In the parlor basement I overheard these snippets in between
The fizzy sounds of Coca-Cola being poured into my cup,

2, A Funeral

Everyone together in mass, listening to
“On Eagle’s Wings,” sung by the choir,

Everyone smelling the Holy Smoke being wafted
By the priest as he approaches the casket, now
Positioned below the altar and colored by the
Dappled light of the sun piercing through
The stained glass,

In sermon he says to double-down on worship, and rejoice
That Kathryn will soon be in the halls of Heaven, a sorrowful
Blessing, a product of the paschal mystery,

“It was her time,” he said,

Everyone prayed the Apostles’ Creed and the priest
Asked for us to focus on the part about ascendance
And everlasting life, how we will see her again when

It’s “our” time,

I focused on the part about descending into hell and
A three-day resurrection, I wondered if there was
Any way my mom could be stuck in purgatory,

Leaving me without her in that other world,

With my family and I in the center pews, we were
Surrounded by stares, everyone consoling from their
Various positions in the church, friends I played
Recess football with were now looking up at their
Parents crying for us,

Instead of meeting their eyes, I gazed straightaway at
The six-foot crucifix looming above my mother,
Sullen and skinny, pale and bleeding,

I wondered if it had ever fallen from its place,
And if so, whose job is it to remount our savior?

As the pallbearers lifted mom from below the
Altar and headed toward the door, my dad noticed
Me crying and said to not wipe the snot on my sleeve,
So I sniffed it up and proceed to leave with the congregation.

3, A Burial

In a five-car procession, all my family drove
From our house to the cemetery after a breakfast
Of sliced and sugared grapefruit, in memoriam  
Of her favorite way to start the morning,

Her casket was already on the lowering device
When we arrived, the wind was strong, pulling
The grass in between the headstones from left
To right,

I decided to wander around the
Other plots, spelling out the names
Of the dead and feeling in awe about
The fact that I’m standing over someone
That was buried in the 1910s,
I started to hear the bagpipes play “Amazing Grace”
When over my left shoulder I noticed my dad calling me
To throw a fistful of dirt as the grinding gears brought her
Casket down.

When I step outside the
Air’s thick like molasses,

The asphalt of our driveway
Appears to melt and steam
And be this sort of semi-liquid,

I half expect my dad’s car to
Get stuck as he’s pulling out for
Work, but he leaves without
Any lasting imprint,

I wave goodbye and walk back
To the garage for my bike,

Every plant and animal
Is lush and thriving
At this time, basking in
The conditions,

The grass is thick like buffalo fur,
And near the lakes, cattail springs up
Like hormonal teenagers,

Blue Dasher dragonflies
Hunt mosquitoes on
Purple Loosestrife,

Fox Squirrels burrow
Maple Seed inside of
Quaking Aspens,

Rhubarb grows wild beneath
Fields of electrical lines,





I spend these days riding down
The Bass Ponds hill to throw
Molotov Cocktails made from
Mini bottles and lawnmower
Gas,

I go to the Mall of America and toss
Orange Julius onto W.W.E conventions,

I stare at a man who wears a Vietnam veterans
Hat and smokes a cigarillo inside of McDonalds,
Threatening to shoot everyone inside,

I break into my old middle school and
Hoist chairs onto the desks like a poltergeist,

I am in baseball tournaments
And pick-up basketball games,

I swim in lakes, rivers and ***** ponds,

I impersonate mothers over the
Phone when my friends get caught
Stealing and the owner wants to handle
It without the authorities,

I stand on a pedestrian bridge
And spit on cars that are caught
In evening traffic,

I hear Cricket frogs howling for
Their lover as the summer quiets,

I watch the sundown string
Out like warm caramel,

The end to this long strand
Of sunset is the nighttime,

When the moon and stars
Flicker into distant vibrancy,

Where coolness settles in, and
Headlights become necessary,

I return home to see the driveway
As a pitch black mass without a car,

So I go inside, take a shower, and
Remember when I used to swim into
Bathtub laboratories as a child,

When I rose to the top I saw my mom
Blurred because of the shower door, sitting
On the toilet with a book in her hand,

She made sure to laugh when I laughed,
And always asked what I discovered
While on my journey down below,

I made sure to pretend that one of
My toys was the stolen linchpin
To some world-destroying device
That would have put our lives in
Jeopardy,  

I haven’t taken a bath since she died,
So when I leave the shower I know she
Won’t be there and I know the world
Is in danger, but I’m not sure if he is
Back yet, so I tiptoe to the top of the
Stairs in my towel and listen for him,

After getting dressed I make a
Grilled cheese and eat it with
Potato chips,

I sit on the head of the couch
So my peripherals will catch
Any signs from the street,

The night is getting old and
The cars driving by become
Few and far between,

Nearly every pair of headlights
I see is either from a semi-truck
Or squad car,

At this point I decide to stand outside,
Thinking that if I’m out there I’ll act
As a sort of magnet,  




By my front door I see moths become
Icarus, fluttering too close to the porch
Light, soon to be cracked by their fusion
To the bulb,

I am pacing now and imagine
Him nodding off on his barstool,
Setting his sights on a third
Nightcap being served by a tender
That is desperate for tips
And isn’t worried about his drive,

He’s crashed before, and I’ve been
In the car with him when he’s
Swerved off the road,

I’ve told him to watch out and
Stop and that’s a red light more
Times than I can count,

I wave goodbye to him every
Morning as a reminder that I’m
Here and alive, and that I’m
Waiting for him to make it back
With his headlights on,  

When I finally see a car turning
Onto my street, I run toward
It so fast I feel as though there
Are wings on my back.