Donald Krieger

Celebration of Claudia

Her body outlived her,
I don't know how long
but for a long time.

It was written in their tired faces,
in her husband's shrug,
in each reminiscence
with its patina of fiction,
tearless, near flat
like wounds salved for years till closed.

I took two stones from her collection,
round but knurled,
heavy in my pocket.
I will place one
at my friend's grave,
murdered at The Tree of Life,
the other on my Lil's
and so sanctify them all.


I was in that first lottery,
drawn by birthday, 341,
no worries.

But I thought again,
sat for the exam,
took the flight physical,
waited and hoped.

Larry was at Travis.
When he heard about it, he called,
talked me out of it.

I regret not going,
but I'm grateful too,
so many I knew gone.

Don is a biomedical researcher living in Pittsburgh, PA. His poetry has appeared online at, Uppagus Magazine, VerseWrights, and others, in print in Hanging Loose (1972), Neurology, and in English and Farsi in Persian Sugar in English Tea, Volumes I and III.