Starke raving
Her husband was a violinist
Not a fiddler
First chair
She had two dogs
Not big
The kind that told her
someone was knocking
With his motorcycle
A grandson holed up
Somewhere in back
Sponging from the dry
On the mantle framed
A daughter long ago killed
In a senior car wreck
Forever smiling in the prom photo
Pill bottles filling the kitchen table
Couldn’t afford to take them
And food
They tell me she passed away
In her sleep
Jigsaw never complete
Grandson in back room came
Out to tell me.
Dogs didn’t warn me.
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