Christina's World

By John Delonas

All my life has been a warm,
August afternoon,
Waking with burning eyes,
Fatigued by rising.
Sitting in one window,
Waiting for a new breeze
To cool my tongue;

My mother sits in the other.
Three flights down my
Father once carried me;
It was the going up,
The constant raisin',
The abrasive, the
Abrasion of up and down
That wore him down.

The wheelchair
Of airflight aluminum,
The books:
The diploma is yellow
As the tea
And the walls that
Fill me

The care,
The constant care,
Have done my will to care
No harm;
I had a love,

But the heating pad is warm.

Can the legless love?
Or the dumb respond
To a serenade?
When mother is gone--
Will I be afraid?

Mother -- -- Lover
Carri-er, starryeye-her,
Gondolas on the beach,
Grandchildren across the way,
Tide ebbing out of reach.

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