Elegy for Aunt Gus, In Advance
- Elegy for Aunt Gus, In Advance
Odds are you’ll die in winterand yes, wreck everybody’s holidays.
Fir soured to needles out on the front porch.Stockings slack where there might have blazed fire.
During Mass at midnight, mutteringsabout the stained-glass windows,
how in the dark they’re beautifulbut only from the outside, looking in.
Sometime around sunrise, snowmeltwill slicken to ice on the steps.
Morning’s brew, bracing in the old cups.Waffle iron cold, unbudged from the shelf.
And, by God, won’t it have beenjust your style, all those ribbons tied so tight.
Inevitable, New Year’s clock strike.No doubt someone as hard-core as you up at that hour,
hell-bent on plowing breakneck through it.Such fervent clamor lifting from the house.
Don’t you dare think it’ll be the spoons poundingtheir hearts out on the kitchen pans. [End Page 134]
nancy carol moody is the author of two collections of poetry, Photograph with Girls and The House of Nobody Home. Her work has appeared in The Gettysburg Review, The Los Angeles Review, and Nimrod. She lives in Eugene, Oregon.
