Red Silk

In her
red silk
it is easy
to see the
girl she was
                       (The baby but one.)
Dust bowl
refusing to
taunting the
devil with 
kitten cries
from the
Red silk
                                   (There’s a story there, sugar.)
in Granny’s
bottom drawer

How many times
in eighty years
had she kept death
Red silk
in her Cherokee
                                        (Granny was a medicine woman.)
Daring death
to cross her
driving him
from self
from family
                          (Six brothers in the war and not a one dead.)
from the
                                     (They told me she’d be dead by the age of ten.)
the red-winged
she buried

Buried in
Red silk
                 (To keep the blues away.)

©s rogers 2008

4 thoughts on “Red Silk

  1. malcolmjames says:

    So death is a man.

  2. catgem says:

    when it suits, yes.

  3. Beautiful. Interesting structure – I’ve always wondered if I might ever be able to write in such a way.

  4. catgem says:

    thank you, sleeping… it’s just my own twisted mind… smiles

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