Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Her Room

Presbyterians and others have drunk toasts in Monica's old corn-yellow bedroom. Mom too
slept there the first night; dad would have howled had he known.

It's walls fell and as we changed its spots and stripes. Now eating breakfast there most mornings,
watching squirrels out side the windows.

We inherited her dreamland with glass doorknobs and emptied closets. The room and we
testify that she awoke where I now sit drinking mornings coffee.

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