THE SKY REMEMBERS HER BEST
The sky remembers her best. It has, after all, observed her every moment filing them away in the archive of the clouds making it as dependable as rain to tell her story. It remembers her crawl which she performed in an upright, sitting position gliding on her tush like Sportin’ Life. It remembers the Betsy Wetsy doll that she doted on The blindfolded search to pin the tail on the birthday party donkey It remembers her banging on the drum skin of a frying pan with a wooden spoon Through the grin of a wide-open winter window To greet the New Year The second that it arrived As Guy Lombardo’s orchestra played A clarinet-tipsy Auld Lang Syne from the Waldorf Astoria on the Dumont TV. It remembers her lacquer black party shoes Which landed on the lunar surface Of Daddy’s shoes When he danced with her at weddings Like they had been partners for their entire life. It remembers the measles and the mumps. The cake and coffee pilgrimage of Aunts and Uncles Who s...