LAST DAYS OF MAY

 LAST DAYS OF MAY

Rain last night,

disturbing roof taps

get me up

to bring cushions on porch

under cover, covert,

quiet, ever domestic

now, grace timing Karen

before her beauty moves

fabric and color. More sleep

while I write my cousin

the long letter for her

difficult story. Light moves

clouds from porch

and even Texas seems possible

to write into her story.

I bring Karen watermelon

spears sensuously sliced,

slender like fingers, show

her the letter to my cousin,

water her geraniums,

drizzling again, Karen goes

back inside while sky clears

and I strap on belt, holster,

pruners, moving to South Gate

with yard bin--Rose of Sharon

squeezed between old rose

and tree hydrangea. It’s muggy.

I break a sweat. It’s time

for Karen’s CT scan

on her throat. Time

to go. Will there be

lemonade for what parches?

Jim Bodeen

29 May-9 June 2025