IN THE RED

If memory means losing track

of time, I more than qualify.

Was Kennedy murdered yesterday

or fifty-six Novembers ago?

Were my grandchildren just born,

or are they really twenty,

seventeen and twelve?

The maple

I just planted can’t be higher

than my roof already, but it is.

I still recall my rifle

number but forget (or want

to forget) who’s President.

Don’t talk to me about

inflation, taxes or weekends

at Disney World.

It’s all

one contemporary lapse.

I’ve lost count of birthdays.

I stumble on stairs I climbed

two at a time last year.

Today I pulled off the road

to be sure I knew where

I was going…

For reassurance

I glance at a branch of the maple

where a male and female cardinal

are perched at attention.

Paired

for life, they look as if

they’ve found what everybody seeks.

He’s royally red and poised

like the god of love invoked

by worshippers.

She looks less vivid

but seems more sensible and smarter.

For Shea Murtaugh

Download PDF