Come September

Come September

Come September 2500 1406 Tiffany Sciacca

We will still walk hand in hand, talking each other down
from our brittle edges and I will wonder if my mother’s blood
has finally gone bad beneath the skin. If I should’ve given up
the photos she needed to reminisce over better years, even if
they’d ruined her for me—and you will wonder if you should’ve flown
back to the lemon trees, to the salted air, and strangers playing two minutes of song.
As the men of the family walk your father through a street he strolled for 50 years,
circling the piazza twice before dropping him into the ground.

Header photograph © Asher.

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