Cleaning The Attic Poem by Janet Nesler

The lid was raised on a black wooden box,
releasing the odor of expensive perfume
on old velvet capes; fancy hats and gloves
of another era.

Silk dresses, spectacles, a hearing cone,
old magazine ads on how
to hear better.

Stacks of poetry books
written by a mother about the drowning
of her son,

Left without even a body
to lay to rest.
Letters to the County Coroners
up and down the Ohio River.
“Please watch for a body of this description,
I’m deaf and I can’t call you.”

Neatly tucked inside a small jewelry case,
THE OBITUARY:
Six months ago three young friends
were cutting weeds on the river bank
and being the first hot day of the season,
they went for a quick swim in the
treacherous Ohio River. One of them
got caught in the undertow. His body
was found twenty miles down river...

The black box was closed in reverence.
A quiet prayer was whispered for the pain
and courage of a deaf mother.

I’m sure she heard it and smiled.