Never alone, even with one place set,
the past eats dinner with my mother.
Vacancy, rooms to let, entertaining not strangers
but angels in ten rooms reduced to four.
Walking images of moments, non-events,
replace the silence of my father’s death,
as a Glenn Miller lullaby sweeps softly from the corner…
The caretaker learns to keep herself.
About the AuthorValerie Heinold MacEwan writes about the South as she sees it. In her words: "Lurking behind the conversations of others in Bingo Parlors and at county fairs, I seek inspiration from my surroundings. I revere trailer parks, cement chickens, and abandoned cars."
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