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Edison Jennings: Homebound
One rabbit, two dogs, a cat, several fish—
tropical and gold—assorted road kill—
domestic and wild—and the ashes
of one child— her only, a girl— buried
in the yard, the girl’s ashes in the crotch
of a maple, bind her to the house
and three acres her husband bought
the day before they were married,
assured that only death could do them part,
but it wasn’t death that did them part
(that came later), but the lifeguard
at the public pool who parted them
quite easily when the tanned and blond
young man awakened a self her husband
didn’t know he had, compelling him
to quit his job, no reason given,
and head for LA with his lifeguard lover,
leaving his pregnant wife with a note,
their savings, and all their property,
which five years later passed to her
uncontested as his heir apparent
when he was killed with his lover
in a fiery I-10 pileup on the way
to ask forgiveness and for the first time
see their child, Elissa, who would die
three years later of Amebic Meningitis,
contracted probably in the pool
her father’s partner cleaned and guarded
without fail until they left for California,
each of whom—daughter, father,
father’s lover—she sketched in ink
and framed in birdseye maple
then hung side by side near a window
where she often sits come evening,
sometimes nodding off to sleep.
Copyright 2022 Edison Jennings
Edison Jennings lives in the southwestern Appalachian region of Virginia. In 2017, he was awarded the Virginia Quarterly Review Conference Award in Poetry.
Vox Populi 
Such a dark tale! So Appalachian, with many twists.
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Yes, a Southern Gothic tale… Michael Simms https://www.michaelsimms.info
Author of Nightjar Author of American Ash Founder of Autumn House Press Editor of Vox Populi
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What a portrait. So many layers.
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