National Poetry Month: two more drafts

#10  Fanny Denlinger Kauffman

My mother’s mother died from

Septicemia

In 1922

Two weeks after she birthed

My uncles

At home.

Delirious, tossing in the bed,

Then dead,

Stiff like marble

When they lifted my

Seven year old mother up

To kiss her goodbye.

Sepsis

Toxic response to infection

Pathogens

Raging from

A bed full of childbirth,

 A barely noticed cut.

Septic

Blood gone bad

Coursing poison through the body

Poisoned muscles screaming pain

Poisoned heart slowing down

Worse than arsenic,

Body turned against itself

Still , we can't stop it.

 ( photo from Google Images)

#11

Waiting for the Grosbeak

Grosbeak -  teutonic lumpy word

For gorgeous bird,

But the adjectives redeem

Blue Grosbeak,

Evening Grosbeak,

Rose-Breasted Grosbeak.

Rose-Breast, each day now I wait for you

To meander by my window

On your way north

Before the Beebalm blooms.

I keep my feeder full

Of Sunflower seeds, your favorite,

Hoping I am home

When you appear.