She left me her wedding dress of
dark gray, a 1940’s Art Deco mirror,
rectangular shaped with gold swirls on
all four sides, so I can look into my
past/future/watch for her features in
I say, “I’m thinking southwestern style with
horses/silhouettes of birch trees; maybe a sunset.”
You say, “If I were to ask you to write a
poem for my wedding, I wouldn’t tell
you what to write.
I understand it is trust
you require from me; silence.
I respond, “I wouldn’t write a poem about
death for your wedding. I would ask you questions.”
I put on the white, wool coat that comes
down to my shins. It’s as heavy as a
blanket. I think how lovely it is. Maybe I
should leave it alone. It isn’t my mother’s coat,
but it is someone’s mother’s coat. I love it
even though I never wear it.
You say, “Let’s shorten it to knee length, add
a couple of buttons here, get rid of the sash.”
I picture the new look, think how
modern/light it will feel.
You say, “I’m thinking Art Deco.”
I say, “I trust you,” leave.
- Ronda Miller enjoys wandering the high plateau of NW Kansas where the Arikaree Breaks whisper late into the sunset and scream into blizzards and t-storms. She lives in Lawrence where she is close to her son and daughter. She is Poetry Contest Manager for Kansas Authors Club, and is a Life Coach specializing in those who have lost someone to homicide.
- April’s Guest Editor, Roy Beckemeyer, edits scientific journals and writes poetry and essays. His poems have most recently been accepted by or appeared in The Midwest Quarterly, Straylight, The North Dakota Quarterly, Nebo, Mikrokosmos, Coal City Review, and The Lyric. He lives in Wichita, Kansas and has degrees from St. Louis University, Wichita State University, and The University of Kansas.
He notes: “In the poem series I have chosen for April, I have focused on works that define our sense of Time and Place by the people we know, the people we interact with, the people we live with. “