A solar eclipse
box of family stuff
we have to admit
it’s never close enough.
We search for the clues
whether cosmic or cousin
and sigh with unanswered
questions by the dozen.
This is my dear friend Donna, visiting. She is the one who gave me the concept of Connections and who lives the concept. She is visiting family and old friends and acquired a box of family history along the way. Pure awe.
Cold recurring thought
from which there’s no escape:
is this what it all comes down to —
bubble wrap and tape?
Is this how I preserve
bits of family lore?
I must insist on NO:
that’s what my words are for.
Wrapping family hand-me-downs
in paragraphs and pages
is how we bubble-wrap
our stories for the ages.
Who cares? you ask. Who’s going to read?
Oh, someone will, somewhere —
a curious, amused
incredulous distant heir.
The unknown genealogist
no matter he or she
doubtless brilliant, charming
in fact, a lot like me.
And thus my thoughts run on
unburdening shelves and drawers
caught between the memories
and the unknowable encores.
