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Changes

J. Quinn Brisben


Green leaves going lacy and pale,
Something is raddling the elms;
And the cottonwood tree has been lopped,
Making room for the carport
Leading in from the side street
Which is newly paved with concrete.
Grass is strangely lush, un-played upon,
The backyard clothesline long gone.
The fenced area at the yard’s end
That once housed live decoy ducks,
Then bird dogs, then a victory garden,
Then nothing, has been removed.
My father watches his friend,
My friend, too, George Streets,
Who gives me a hard time for
Not backing the latest war, but
Dad glances to make sure I know
That George is in pain and speaks
From pain, but I knew that
Already, just as I know that Mama
Is in worse pain but will not
Speak from it. The two men
Have baggy pants like low comics
And move slowly. I am ushered
To the door, time to see Mama.
Dad at least knows enough
Not to say “Welcome home.”






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