45. Oil

Dad said that Mom’s cancer is systemic.

Not like finding oil in your backyard

but realizing your whole neighborhood

 

was built over black gold.

Her well should have been good

for only five to 11 months. She’s still trickling

at 33 months and counting.

 

I’m headed over to see her with as many jars

as I can find. I asked my friends and neighbors

for their jars, too,

so I can pour her bright faith

into each and every one.

1 thought on “45. Oil”

  1. Yes.

    These poems are powerful. Don’t let the relative lack of comments make you think they are not reaching and touching people. Thank you for all of these.

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