Before Nano-Memoirs
He scrawled his drunken stupor
across the back flap of a safety envelope,
mailing it to the wrong address.
“Next time there’ll be hell
to pay,” he warned in thick, black ink
crawling like spider veins over the edge,
up my arm, down my spine.
Now, standing before his nano-memorial,
threat chiseled far beneath Loving Dad
and Grandfather, I contemplate
the steady hand of the stonecutter
and ponder the price
of granite.
Tammy Daniel lives in Blue Springs, Missouri, with her husband, two children, and an old English sheepdog. She was a finalist in the Davis Grove Haiku and Nature Poetry Contest sponsored by The Writers Place and the Kansas City Port Authority. Her work has been published on the Johnson County, Kansas Library website, Touch: The Journal of Healing and will soon appear in I-70 Review