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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=463598" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Anniversary</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The kitchen calender, impaled by a nail in the wall, <br>rifled by the breeze over the still-damp floor, <br>its gridded edges stamped with dates<br>under Fantin La Tour plates, <br>is the wind's rolodex; <br>the blue filled corners of each graven square, <br>like window boxes after April snow, <br>says it's been a week beyond a year<br>since your long, inelegant demise, O Mother dear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see you snatched from the doldrums of Providence<br>where the streets had names like Main, Mt Pleasant and Charles, <br>transported from the high-school football fields of Providence, <br>so quiet, one could recite rosaries unperturbed, <br>despair tweaked only by the ticking clock, <br>the lovliest orphan on the block, <br>trusting only in what's plain: God's choosey grace, <br>that awesome provost, his Holy Ghost<br>and your own sweet face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Again, I see you up with the sun, shouting awake<br>the sleepers sleeping, keeping house, house<br>for the tough but worth it spouse you took to wed, <br>a vile privilege, no mistake, <br>disappointment a sort of natural glue: <br>life, never perfect, wasn't designed to be so.<br>The depths of your redoubtable pool of grace<br>dwindled sadly, as life wore on, and only God<br>so friendly, early on, to blame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hear you channeling tales that told us who we were: <br>the corn-pilfering deer that bounded from the barn at dawn.<br>The wolves that crept down and howled in the Vermont foothills.<br>The squaw that came calling and unlike Whitman's stayed.<br>The supervised rite of the campus dance<br>where future soul-mates met by chance.<br>You clapped when each year I unwrapped the sack-butt-playing<br>shepherd in yellow hose, who sat at the corner of the creche.<br>Niagara, when pop complained the Canadian side was bigger.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Morgan+Michaels">Morgan Michaels</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=463598" data-title="Anniversary de Morgan Michaels" data-description="The kitchen calender, impaled by a nail in the wall, 
rifled by the breeze over the still-damp floor, 
its gridded edges stamped with dates
under Fantin La Tour plates, 
is the wind's rolodex; 
the blue filled corners of each graven square, 
like ..."></div>
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