[I don't know if lines lifted from correspondence qualify, but I find poetry in letters received from sherry, and she's given me her permission to post these here.]
“I'm up to my elbows in paint and life.
I'm not good at dealing with death.
I'd never go to another ‘viewing’
but people don't understand.
I'm diligently working on my sister's house.
My . . . brother-in-law made a huge mess of things.
It is disturbing to see.
Then, I step outside and look at the sweetheart roses my sister rooted now in full bloom or the moon flower on the vine.
I see her everywhere and was thinking, today, that one day we will move forward. I suppose we are.
Summer is almost here which translates to kids underfoot again.”
A second bloom of the sweethearts my sister rooted. Yes, I suppose we are.
[the end lines, outside the quotes, are my only additions to Sherry's words from three separate PM's this date.] Lynn Doiron of Emerging Poets.
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