Issue Twenty-Six - Summer 2015

Elegy

By Kay Mullen

A child of eight remembers the first visit,
the narrow rutted road, dust swirling behind
the gray sedan. Around a bend,
wild roses and balsamroot
climb a wrought-iron gate.

Seven years her mother lies beside
loved ones enduring
as oak shade in August, yellow
leaves like fragile letters tucked away

in a locked trunk.
Hand-me-down memories linger from wall
hangings and hushed tones overheard,
torn music sheets flattened

on a secret shelf of the secretary, initialed
linens never used. Refrains still sing
from fingers that once flew over the keys
like wings, her brush strokes: the pebbled
stream, fields of lupine,
the shanty and chimney smoke.

Copyright Mullen 2015

Kay Mullen ’s poems have appeared in various poetry journals including Valparaiso Poetry Review, American Life in Poetry, Pontoon and others. She has authored three poetry books and is the recipient of Pushcart Prize nominations, and Best of the Net. Kay earned a Master of Fine Arts from Pacific Lutheran University and currently teaches and lives in Tacoma.

All work by