INEZ
The first day I reached fifty two,
I saw my old dad’s oldest sister.
Serrated shale the driveway
announced my arrival,
each step with a crunch.
I came for the viewing.
An old red sedan,
embalmed by dents,
was left to stand
for interment in her barn,
a stained mausoleum
already filled
with the remains of other days.
Grill hood and fender
the car’s face
had tarnished to a pale pallor of plum grey.
I smiled at the way
she wanted to keep it
and moved it into place,
the last foot or two by hand.
Moist hair
a wispy veil for her eyes
stayed in the way
as she tried to help
with her two pound push,
swiping gnats away.
I told her I could do it
not to bother,
I really did.
She tried to knuckle my head
called me silly kid
asked me why did I bother.
Tongue tied,
what could I say?
I just did.
* A'keith Walters, an avid collector of black and white photographs, is currently working on a body of poetic for publication.
