Ivory and Pearls

For Virginia Flaherty
Died June 6, 2011

I.
Ivory and pearls
Recall her grace, the promise
Of beauty, a military wife’s duty
The penchant for off-white
Sweaters and dime store jewelry
Unimaginable that death traded him
For nothing more than his obsolete playbook
How you cannot fathom
Ivory and pearls
Overshadowed now by rusted clasp
In-hand treasures
So sacred and profane
Found buried in the drawer

II.
Planting and pleading
Remembrances of muddy fingers, legs
Stretched in front to prop hips
Atop a limestone wall, primrose, daisies
And foxglove
Lined in boxes before soil
Tubular topped stems into which
Fingers fit perfectly
Lilies of the valley and field
Whispering through a kitchen window
A daughter and mother singing
Metered drops of rain echo
“Come to the garden alone”

III.
Clouds and sun
Intermittent grey shawls
Around shoulders of sea
Searching the climbing clematis
Sympathetic bleeding hearts
Clusters of anger
Unstrung ivory and pearl petals
Fall from the dogwood tree
In the garden strange you adorn
Another woman’s loyalty
For planting abundant change
To you my gratitude
Kindred gardener

IV.
We bloom until we don’t
Then someone else
Must till our soil

Published June 5, 2013