This morning’s coffee
tastes like resignation,
I’m in the mood for redemption.
if i could have anything back
any part of his essence
i would want
as life without it has been
no life at all
wild flower covered
day lilies praying to face the sun
white horse fences on Derby Day
wearing too much makeup and cloying colognes
pastel bow ties, open toed
espadrille intentions painted perfectly
round pen prancing
& the horses are pedigreed too.
The world of Man O’ War and
my family’s last great horseman
until we got a jockey and horsewoman
in my niece, a true princess.
Etheridge had a voice like thunder
booming across a valley
melodic, bellicose, bass baritone
a cowboy hat the size of god
and a cherry wood pipe to match
stories of blood relations
unfurling in his pipe smoke
prince of our family
your memory I cherish
thoughts of you, on a faraway farm
just this side of a Kentucky heaven.
Bless and keep us through the days to come, uncle,
and thank you, kindly.
you can’t get from her desert south west to kentucky
the archway of plenary indulgence is not her path
demons choked on fear and comeuppance lose their way
oh ye of little faith
was there ever any doubt
Jesus was from Elyria
that Ostara was from Kentucky
and that Lazarus was from Newark, NJ
but he got stuck in traffic for 10 years
on the high roads of rt. 80
will sell you
and a bronze casket
in one lifetime.
Do you think
Canadians feel like
the spacious attic