William Neumire
Anniversary

Again this year the magnolia leaves
bloom and fall and punctuate the grass
with pink apostrophes. There is possession
in them, in that they were mothered
and forgotten. In that they own
my eyes for now, after work
but before the invasion of voices
and barking. Each one is a little girl
without a father. Staring up at me.
Each one has a mother too barren to care.

<< return to the Table of Contents for New Series #3: Summer 2010, Volume 2 Number 1