the lawn littered with yesterday's pruning
crying dog
© Rachel Green 2019
Guilt and Regret
1.
I was maybe ten
and remember it as if
from an external camera.
A summer garden
sat on the wall around the raised back lawn
striped tee-shirt, shorts,
socks surrounded by butts on Player's No. 6
my father had tossed toward the drain,
and I was fussing a dog.
Was it Shane? Or had she died by then?
My mother,
standing at the side door,
talking to Marge and Vic,
and old fellow with a humpback,
about a local lad who'd lost his mother.
And I wished it could be me,
that I had lost my mother,
anp people thought of me with kindness.
I'm sorry, Mom,
that I wished death upon you
and never knew you as an adult.
© Rachel Green 2019
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