Mildred Corrie

Mildred Corrie

I saw you yesterday

in a cherry blossom petal

spinning from the branch

to the sidewalk.

They shaved off all of your

beautiful white hair

when I came to say goodbye.

You wouldn't let them 

take out your false teeth

and I never loved you more.

In the last hours and minutes

we were alone.

I did the only thing 

I knew how to do.

I sang to you

and held your disappearing hand.

Then I realized you were there 

in the tiny claws of the 

baby robin I buried 

in the backyard 

of the house on 86th Avenue, NE.

in 1976.

Mildred Corrie.

I will see you again and again

in the veins of a bumblebee's wings

or in the flaking paint of the front porch steps.

You will always be 

beautiful and strong.