On Fire

Born on poor pink-white South soil
you grew tall with toil       raw-knuckled Kate, descendant of Andersonville

woman torn as springtime tears the hills, the leopard the kill

Childhood was Sunday school: Fire & Brimstone Hell, shoulder-to-wheel:

All the while you are delicate: You are a shaker box
or clock exquisitely made, simple, profoundly kind to the hand:

Northern conduct later learned, grafted on Southern:
Cape Cod Saltbox on Ante-Bellum:

A communication break occured which must be mended.
Twining of woodbine.

You sought nice balance, perimeters:
Once the cancer overtook its bounds, it was like kudzu:

On white day it burned & burned
dress-shaped flames:
                       On fire
                       one can only be consumed.

-- Lynn Strongin