We’ve heard Nat, Etta and Billie offer
renditions throughout this Saturday blessed
with sun. Catherine’s flying now over
the Texas state line, coming home. I’ve messed
around my townhouse, washing clothes, TV
tossing out college basketball—Oxford
to Austin to LA—Gershwin via
the Classic Arts Channel. You’re still aboard
the Hot Springs homestead, I guess, with kiddos,
little Mags slowly healing. We’re healing
slow, each of us like our skin, I suppose—
wounds sealing, scars our badges revealing
long record of survival. I see your
face in every flower, your eyes
in stars…
Roger Armbrust
January 19,
2013
