Two Poems by Catherine Zickgraf

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 Remission

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Blessings in the clouds sound horns of plenty.

Her boys roll around in frenetic joy.

They are pinecones still maturing on the boughs,

on her song in the sweetness of wind-borne bells.

Her words will remain when her voice flies away.

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She weaves yarn through her backyard long pines

so her children can wander their own unknown.

She watches from the porch with gratitude

they’re still young enough they still return home.

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The bridge outside connects the creek sides,

brides swim their dresses out to sea—she teaches

her sons to see with their minds, not eyes.

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Rivers scoop lakes at their estuaries.

A marble she holds encases the oceans.

Tending futures inside, she polishes the sky’s eye,

guards her kids tugging rope up the creek side

and swinging into the long line of horizon.

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Storyteller

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She holds a placemat I wove from construction paper

to lay under her Willow Blue Wedgewood plates on

holidays. I slept over often, I was her bed warmer,

slid eyes open at times when she stroked my hair in

the strawberry dawn. Her girl, says my emerald ring.

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Waking wide into a houseful of comfort, dark coffee

percolating, strawberry jelly and toast, I helped turn

dough into linen-lined bowls of dinner rolls. We

greeted parents, uncles and aunts at the door—sons

of her heart, in-law daughters of her dreams. She’s

prayed hope and home into each new household

since before her boys were born. We still lament his

absence, the guest list forever incomplete. Yet she’s

been strong enough to attend to our needs, tending

generations of seeds, taking the head of the table.

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Fed full and warm, we laughed, I swam carpet and

grass with cousins. My, how those evenings passed

without watch-references, phone-glances, grudges,

etc. Adults rested elbows, leaned in, flushed with

Riesling—trunks feeding canopies their leaves. For

from the recliner now, she nurtures with stories of

perseverance and stability to bless even as-yet unsent

souls whom during her own time she will never meet.

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Catherine Zickgraf grew up in Boothwyn, PA and lives in Augusta, GA. Two lifetimes ago, she performed her poetry in Madrid. Now her main jobs are to write and hang out with her family. Her work has appeared in the Journal of the American Medical Association, Pank, Victorian Violet Press, and The Grief Diaries. Her chapbook, Soul Full of Eye, is published through Aldrich Press. Find her on twitter @czickgraf. Watch and read more at http://www.caththegreat.blogspot.com

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