Mama Hall
stands in the kitchen
ignoring the aching veins
swollen from years at the stove and sink
in the only room Daddy Hall finished
before dying, the only room
anyone cared about anyway
staring west this winter morning
past bare apple branches
across Kerr’s Creek, Route 60
and ten frosted miles to House Mountain
Barbara married
Lisa in Roanoke
Blair working a saw mill
in Covington
Donna and Billy still there
but talking slowly
between mouthfuls
about college in Richmond
after spring graduation
-
Author:
Will Hiltz (
Offline) - Published: February 23rd, 2017 03:29
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.