amaryllis

for Evelyn


Last week, as we planted
what was left of your frail body,
I peered in that deep

and neatly cut rectangle

and thought how

you never wore garden gloves,

but loved this black dirt

against your skin.

How often, after tending

your pale naked ladies,
a bit of earthy Kansas
showed under your nails
like a badge of courage.

Now you, brave lady,
are planted with the lilies,
and I cling to spring's promise
that death is only for a season.




willow, 2010