In a rush this weekday morning, I tap the horn as I speed past the cemetery where my parents are buried side by side beneath a slab of smooth granite. Then, all day, I think of him rising up to give me that look of knowing disapproval while my mother calmly tells him to lie back down. Copyright © 2000 by The Modern Poetry Association. This poem appears in the December 2000 issue of @3Poetry@1 Magazine. http://www.poetrymagazine.ord | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MEMORY OF THE PLAYERS IN A MIRROR AT MIDNIGHT by JAMES JOYCE SCHOOLS OF LITTLE FISH by MARVIN BELL THE INCORRIGIBLE DIRIGIBLE by HAYDEN CARRUTH CHAMBER MUSIC: 35 by JAMES JOYCE MARTHA WASHINGTON by SIDNEY LANIER THE DINNER-PARTY by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IMANUEL EHRENHARDT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |