A Box of Diamonds Rosemary Kavanagh It was a hot spot out there Like bombs and machine guns weaving my father’s despair. A glorious moment I had Reaping the benefits alone, Flashlight on my radiophone Snaking the crooked And cracked cement Towards the location Of her sippy cup. The child no one wanted Brought me out in the Ebony night flickering with lightning bugs, As the cadre’s fireworks imploded Into the Awe of Aurora borealis. The manmade kind, An ancient invention of the Chinese Glittering as the microscopic terrorist, Is killing us all Who are free For want of company. I closed my tearful eyes Tearful like a flash flood On a dry empty plain And sighed as I felt My artistic legerdemain Go into my father’s past. World War II visits me at last! The machine guns wiping out the Jews And bullets zooming in the Parisian air. My diamond ring from a collection box In Bergen-Belsen was there! Oh, the stench of rotting flesh! The death of beauty! Take me back to the sweet scent of summer air! In the unsettling din of the Saginaw night,
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2020 Still Life
