Buried Child

She calls down the stairs.

She calls down.

Again.

No answer.

Faded fabric furniture and rugs worn through

by heavy boots.

There's an indent in the couch cushion--

an invisible somebody

watching the old TV screen.

Again.

No answer.

The sun is coming up.

It's almost time to plant again, she thinks.

She preens-- pulls at deep wrinkles

in the corners of her eyes

her forehead

her neck.

There's no one to sew the seeds anymore.

She calls down the stairs.

Corn husks have blown into the corner

with balls of dust

and grey hairs.

Planting season come and gone.

Again.

No answer.

*Inspired by Sam Shephard's "Buried Child." Halie was without a doubt one of my favorite roles to play onstage.