NDJ:8 “That” Deirdre Callanan

That ice shuttered the lake,
and the rocks
accepted its embrace-as
did she Aunt Adelaide’s
at the funeral.

Across this attic landing

from flapper dresses

and a cheddar round
in its burlap shroud,
madness and sorrow doze. 

The curve of forgetting
clatters down the stairs-a
cat’s eye marble
coated in dust
which the door arrests.

At the orchard’s brink,
pink pours
from the peonies,

 floods the barrow of oak leaves

 and her parched throat.

While fog contrives
to erase ramp then dock,
she slips the Whaler’s lines,
lets the motor idle,
backs away.

That she must pause
to bless the trout
beneath this wake,
tattered shadows
silent as stars.