For All Anyone Knows

The wasps congregating on the wind chimes, late August,
mistook them for a cathedral.

Aunt M., missing for years, didn’t drown herself in the river.
My brother, right about her husband after all.

Who says our lives aren’t mere wishes?
So much for heat, for particle and wave.

The last one tagged "It" still roams the neighborhood
calling, Where are you? I give up.

Aunt M.’s name could have been a pass-along plant.
It ended up with me.

The ocean view from the dunes no one is allowed to climb,
a postcard never sent.

Wish you were here: code for
I’m glad you’re not.

Copyright © 2008 Susan Meyers All rights reserved
from The American Poetry Journal
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission