National Poetry Day #7

Remembrance of an April

A single crocus in the yard
stands watching over
the taller daffodils still
pushing through the leaves.

Years ago
I told him to leave
on the first of April:
“It’s time for you
to live somewhere else” I said
leaving, for a moment,
the doubt of a
poorly played joke.
And so it had spun out,
those years, an
all too long and private joke.

He packed.
I repeatedly took out
the two things of that kept
appearing in his cartons.
A mug. A book.
I finally let the book go.
Why that book I had no idea.

He seemed angry
that I didn’t help him.
I stayed in my room
and listened to him toss
things into the rented truck.
That July morning at last
the truck pulled away
finishing the whole charade.

Mary Beth Frezon 7 April 2011

NaPoWriMo — Not Without Poetry