"A Last Photo"
Susan Corey
A Last Photo
I have a sudden urge to grab a camera,
hop into my parents’ old Buick
and drive to the cemetary
to photograph their grave before
I leave this town, this state…
I wonder if the light will hold at 6 p.m.
to show the carved names, dates
birth, marriage and death
the coming and going of life
or if the tall maple has cast its dark
shadow despite the summer solstice.
When I arrive
a stream of light
reaches below the branches
to touch one block of Cold Spring granite--
only theirs among the stones that cluster
in this shaded spot.
Mother’s death date, newly carved,
shines brighter than my Dad’s,
now four years old.
I fill a plastic jug, water the pink impatiens
hung beside the stone
hear my mother’s voice
“They’re doing well despite the shade”
then say goodbye and snap a picture
to carry back to California. . .
something to hold instead of a phone
when I tell her that I’m safely home.
|
