i checked the widow box today
another milestone in the books
like the restored antique car found
languishing on a Georgia farm
a tree growing through its floorboards
or the unmolested original, not
a trailer queen, but a well-mannered
good-driving survivor
could i be one of those?
i miss fingering his fine silky hair
stroking his palm with my index finger
the tilt of his head as he reached for me
like that dog who carries a marrow-rich
bone he drops in pursuit of a giant
shadow version reflected in the lake
i’m near drowning
i cling to funhouse mirror distortions
an Elizabethan purge of bush-hogging
get brazilian waxes and shave
a hollow home in empty slippers
Elizabeth Robin, a retired high school teacher, has two collections of poetry through Finishing Line Press: Where Green Meets Blue (2018) and Silk Purses and Lemonade (2017). A poet of witness and discovery, she relates both true and fictional stories about her Lowcountry present and world-traveling past. Also published in fiction and nonfiction, her work appears most recently in The Fourth River, Foliate Oak, Blue Mountain Review, Good Juju, and Reflections.
This poem by Elizabeth Robin is compact and trim, specific and expansive. I keep finding new and surprising connections between its gracefully moving parts.