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Weeping for Abigail (With audio)

Sunset certainly the sun glowed orange yellow pink

Near the lake by the huge weeping willow

Glinting lies rippling across the top of the water rustling

Now smooth

And it rained

Circles overlapping one another in impossibilities

It was always raining

The low clouds hugging the spirit in a damp uncomfortable grip

Meaty fingers digging into arms or thighs

Faint hint of juicy fruit gum and aquanet

I should pick better words for the sunset colors

What word is more pink than pink or that shade of orange which

Hovers and blends between the hot pink and the glowing yellow

Golden salmon peaches blues

And the dark dark water under the glinting

swallowing the colors

Until they shine palatable

The grey tabby brushes loose hairs against

Knee high socks

The design is lovely, not quite lace but pointelle

I want to pet her and I reach

The reprimand is as fast

I pet anyway

I belong to no one

Hissed rebukes and I will pay for it later

I would no matter what

Pets or no pets

The tabby and I are commiserating

There is too much noise and nodding and tight smiles

Grief stricken eyes but they don’t know the depth

And breadth of it

They think they weep for the person who died

That they weep for those of us left behind

But in the end I am sure

Everyone is weeping for Abigail

Look at her she purrs

Her fur is soft and gently striped

Her whiskers are white and stiff

A minister says he and she and they are with God now

And no longer in pain

The water glints

Are you sure about that

Why then do we weep for Abigail

If big Ned is no longer

And Sissy’s in the grave

And Aunt Delila’s coffin slowly lowered

And the dirt’s thrown down

A clod

Pad pad pad and a soft strike

Retracted claws and still there’s a snag

On a pointelle knee high sock

It’s grey too the socks

The corduroy dress, the thin kind not that

Ropey thick stuff

Shoes are tossed in a corner by a door

Wooden floors beg for sliding

Even as the dirt comes out in hushed whispers

No one is good enough to avoid speculation

Was it the pills or the heart

Had someone found out about a scandal

Was there a scandal

How scandalous that there’s nothing to speculate

Was he or she or they just boring and dull

And the sun is setting and setting and will never

Fall beyond the horizon and this is hell

This landscape of midwestern church clothes

And sensible shoes

And corduroy and tabby cats who speak in gestures

And rolling throat noises

Feet are sliding on the wooden floors and someone

Says stop that

And someone else says let her be she doesn’t understand

But we are all gathered together for ever

Weeping and weeping for Abigail

I’m sorry you are weeping too

I’m sorry no one escapes it

The Sun sets and the rain falls and the water

Absorbs more water and the circles overlap

And the weeping willow falls into the lake


The earth has a gap now

A ripped up shredded space where a giant

Of motherly love once stood

The secret behind every tear drop

Is the how the blood of the tree flows

Without ceasing and everyone who has ever

Laid on the floor and cried

Or faced the ceiling as silent tears slide onto a pillow

Weeps for Abigail

All weeping for Abigail

And they don’t know it yet

But when they lie stiff in satin lined boxes

Wearing the nicest set of clothes they hated

Their spirit has finally understood what it means

Because the stocking covered feet no longer slide on the wooden floor

No one is there to pet the grey tabby

There’s no thighs or arms to pinch and grab

No laughter shouting crying out defiant

There is a ghost animating a body

Abigail is dead and they can’t see her until

They cross the veil

They know then they were always weeping for Abigail

They know then they were always Abigail

A ghost animating a body and not understanding

The glinting of light on the water

Or how sunset lasts forever

Or that it’s good to be notorious

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