Still atop the TV cabinet
his watch alarm goes off
every morning at nine
informing us,
Mom and me,
that it is past the time
to let go.
The alarm
is less shrill now
than when I first arrived.
It urges me to forget my anger, grief, dismay
the last years
of his decline
were after all, not mine to relive
but hers, theirs.
Alas, I am still out of the loop.
I am also fully aware of the fact
that I could not be here
if he still were. In fact
most of the time,
I don’t feel sad at all. Like the timepiece, I just need an adjustment.
It makes me think of sand being ripped from the shore
surf crashing against the rocks
oysters without pearls
It reminds me finally
to swallow my medicine, embrace the black corners
and to misplace the watch outside
in his overfilled garage next to the empty bottle of beer.
©10/11/13 Cornelia DeDona
21.409167
-157.799167
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C. S. De Dona
Author, Poet, Photographer, domestic violence survivor, and naturalized immigrant, Cornelia is currently an Arts and Letters member of The Southwest Florida Branch of The National League Of American Pen Women.
Cornelia lived in Kaneohe, Hawaii, for thirty-six years. Also, seven years in the Mid-Hudson Valley of New York. She now resides in North Fort Myers, Florida.
Her poems and photography are published in print, online, and in Rain Bird, a literary and art journal of the University of Hawaii's Windward Community College (2008-2013).
In 2013, Cornelia received Rain Bird's Kolokolea Poetry Prize for her poem, "Speaking French."
In 2015 her chapbook "Hawaiian Time," entered in the National League of American Pen Women's Vinnie Ream contest, was awarded third place in their inaugural multi-discipline category.
View all posts by C. S. De Dona
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