Not Sure by Arlin Buyert

Dad dies in his bib overalls
with a shovel in his hands,
working for the city after selling the farm.

Post-mortem reveals many cigarettes
and a shroud of wonder,
like one slice of his apple,

unknown until after the funeral,
when in our family room
I overhear my mother and aunt whispering:

“Why did she have to come?”

5 Responses to “Not Sure by Arlin Buyert”

  1. Says:

    scot. Thank you very much! By the way, I am self-publishing a chapbook as was wondering if I need your approval to include this poem and the others in the chap?? Arlin.

    Sent from my iPhone

  2. Nope, the poems are yours…a credit of where first published would be appreciated.

  3. Arlin Buyert Says:

    scot, will do! Thank you .

  4. Tammy Daniel Says:

    Once again, Arlin, you pulled me in. Nice work. Tammy

  5. Arlin Buyert Says:

    Thank you Tammy! Know that I appreciate your support. Arlin.

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