We are forgetting Thalia

It is more than ten years
and that afternoon
can now be visited ,
in memory,
like a tooth ache remembered,

when
returning with father,
recently widowed,
from a day's busy work
in the country
I saw mother's clothes,
so carefully packaged
to be picked by the needy,
strewn on the sidewalk.

All my acting ability
and diversionary talent
went into shepherding him
into the house
before he recognized the pile.

And leaving, I had to gather
tiny suits and sunday dresses.
An old man had torn into them
trying to find forgotten money
and gold pins.

Next time
in the country,
my father said:
"we are forgetting Thalia"
and I knew
he was getting ready
to follow her.