by Robert Lowell
Poor sheepish plaything,
organized with prodigal animosity,
lived in just a year—
my Father’s cottage at Beverly Farms
was on the market the month he died.
Empty, open, intimate,
its town-house furniture
had an on tiptoe air
of waiting for the mover
on the heels of the undertaker.
Ready, afraid
of living alone till eighty,
Mother mooned in a window,
as if she had stayed on a train
one stop past her destination.
Pasadena, CA 11/06/2010
Lowell, Robert. Life Studies. Farrar, Straus and Giroux; 1st edition (October 16, 2007)
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