Judy Collins did you pass today?
Why must the indie radio play your sorrowful tune?
As I drive under dreary New Year Day’s skies,
Along the Connecticut shore.
My sister was that clown
Was she eight?
In a hand -ewn costume
The little pointy hat on top
Face paint much too grown up for her very
Mary Whalen face.
I remember her singing
She says no
It was a glorious dance
She was so happy to cross the wooden stage
With ballet slippers to this one tune.
We lived on parallel universes I say,
Because tears erupted down my cold cheeks the moment her voice
Radiated through the front seat of my car.
Why would the universe send me this?
Pull my face down long
On such a happy day?
I text this to her
To the void
And silence
Phone sitting by the somber windowsill.
Why does the thought of your sister so young bother you
He asks
Perplexed
And I rise to make French press coffee.
Because I am still waiting for the clowns, I say
Still waiting for her to turn to me
The youngest
And say
Come dance with me in the light.
