I pieced it one edge at a time
after shatter spun the blue from its act
as a pitcher handed down with cameos
and pepper scented aprons.

A steady hand stills the clocks
half way through the doors, chocked
with Albert, Trish and Uncle Dan.
I know those voices from the last row,
poking me in the ribs and their raucous
breath of cigarette.

A bell tolls with kitchen.

The choir will later row a skiff to salvage
a rugged cross from passing out of style
in the damp, musty church.

And we hold hands this one time
as I recall the cabinets were white
with large chrome knobs—

the year we noticed the scar on Albert’s chin.

Lovely image of memory in the first stanza, Larry

and this stanza...

The choir will later row a skiff to salvage
a rugged cross from passing out of style
in the damp, musty church.

...encapsulates the rhythm of the choir and the strangeness of church and ritual.

Just obscure enough, to be interesting, to slow the reader down to the pace of the poem and experience its atmosphere.  Works on a deep level.

Sue

This elusive style is always of great impact on the reader’s conscience, Larry, and I am just one of those readers. Lovely poem!
Vasile

Larry, I too like this so much, time being evoked in such different images in each stanza but with the consistent tone. "The choir will later row a skiff to salvage"--super line. Thanks, Tom

Really, really excellent, enjoyed lots

Jerry

I've been remiss in thanking you for the notes. So, Vasile, Sue, Tom and Jerry, thanks...

larry

Larry,  I had to read it a few times.....but I like it very much....I wanted to adjust the first stanza though....see below...maybe just my voice trying to edge in, but I'll put it up in case something catches your eye.... lol

I pieced it, an edge at a time
after shatter spun the blue from its act
as a pitcher handed down with cameos
and pepper scented aprons.

to

I pieced it one edge at a time,
after shatter spun the blue from its act,
as a pitcher handed down with cameos
and pepper scented aprons.

Michelle,

Best compliment I've had all day. If I can read a poem only once, I'll never bother again. Thanks for the note on the pause, will think on it.

larry

A bell tols with kitchen

I love that line, Larry.  It carries all the cooks of my life -- aunts, grandmothers, uncles -- who served overcooked green beans and limp carrots seasoned with bacon drippings.  Was there anything not seasoned with bacon? 

What I find after the third read is an appreciation for what isn't there, like looking at an abstract drawing until the absences are what make the drawing intelligible to me.  That is to say, I don't get it "all" but what I do get, hits home.

lynn

Ditto Lynn's appreciation.  I especially liked the choir rowing to save the rugged cross.

Rick

So pleasing.  This is the very sort of poem which I most enjoy encountering.

And we hold hands this one time

Excellent pick, Lynn. 

A lot of excellent work from you lately on the board Larry - xo M

Great pick, Michelle, great poem, Larry.

milner

What a treat to find this poem on the Front Page!  Thanks Michelle for making it so, and Larry for its creation.  Bravo!