On the car radio
“Clouds” by Debussy
full moon lights the predawn
consciousness moves outward
Remembering the richly stained wood mantel
where bulging stockings hung Christmas morning.
Later, by the warm glow of the fireplace, watching
tightly rolled wrapping paper burning in colored hues.
At noon the sliding six foot wide wooden door
opened to the dining room where the good table,
lengthened by extensions, was covered by the best cloth
with the smaller, noisier, children’s table by its side.
Anxiously awaiting the arrival of steaming platters
pinching cousins and annoying the youngest aunt
trying to impress her boyfriend (new to the gathering)
brief silence, Grandpa says grace, joyous conversation
The endless happy hours in this space replaced
by a fraction of a second at cruise control
on the four lane highway now there –
the mantel dumped in a landfill
or an ornament for an
all electric home.
“Funerailles”
Liszt
