I creaked up the back porch stairs
and opened and slammed the torn screen door
and swatted away a buzzing fly
the memory of a past day gone

with picnics near the fallow fields
the whining wail of harmonicas
and hand churned ice cream cherry or peach
the pits and stones breaking teeth

and walked into the kitchen dark
from blinds drawn and eyes shut
to recent sickness and palsied hands.
Mom stood at the farmhouse sink

calendar pages yellowing
a glass of milky water filled
and tilting up to take a swig
her other hand holding pills

too many for a daily dose.
Out the window barely cracked
I caught a glimpse of tractors stilled
leafless trees and murderous crows.

Steve Gerson, an emeritus English professor from a Midwestern community college, writes poetry and flash about life’s dissonance and dynamism. He’s proud to have published in Panoplyzine (winning an Editor’s Choice award), The Hungry Chimera, Toe Good, The Write Launch, Route 7, Duck Lake, Coffin Bell, Poets Reading the News, Crack the Spine, Riza Press, White Wall Review, Variant, and others.