How many times was I wishing
I was home during tornado season?
But what’s the point if a twister
can’t lift me over all of blasted Arizona,
if it can’t hurtle me long past the Rockies
to land on your side porch at 304 Charles,
sad & empty, Road? I’m sorry for myself
& shamefully sit in California’s sun
sending flowers in your name. “Ilene”
What a beautiful name, I mean.
Someone from Kingston, Canada phoned
to inform me there aren’t any roses
at this time, but that’s okay. Really okay.
I instructed the daisies to be your sunshine,
from me, from the Rockies, from the Mojave,
where I’ll sit slack-jawed today near I-5 which
looks an awful lot like I-70’s good old belt
in Kansas that stretches &holds on, &on
near the Enterprise cemetery they’ll bury you in,
our blessed, our beautiful Ilene. “Ilene.”
for Blogging University &Grandma Ross