Missing Ginny
by Patricia Brodie


We sit on folding chairs and sing a hymn.
The pastor reads from Psalms:
___Unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul...
says he didn't know you,
talks in generalities.

Slow procession to the cemetery.
Our last view of you -- your casket on the grass,
men in dark suits concealing it with wreaths of roses.

Back in our cars, we follow in a line to your house.
Where are the photos that were on the piano --
you and Bob at the Cape,
you, younger, holding Marcie,
looking serious at that first job after your Master's --
We smile as your grandsons run by;
no granddaughters to show off your thick curly hair.

Sandwiches and drinks on the dining room table.
______"It must have happened fast."
______"The chemo didn't work."
______"Why didn't she tell anyone?"

At last I find you --
shiny new handrails in the bathroom.
I touch their cold aluminum.






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