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A Movie With My Mother

Just as the picture fades into black
and the white words in order of appearance

drift up towards the grandchildren
framed above the set

the rhythm and beauty sitting back
behind my mother would whisper

to her what to say, so she said
each and every time

that I remember,
that's how that ended.

And her forefinger finds the button
to end the endless upward drifting

while just beyond the door
and past the porch

a season turns, and I imagine
a trumpet sound, four horses,

the whole scene once revealed to John
now all at once revealed to me.

The rhythm and beauty behind me whispers
that's how that ended.

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