Memorial Sonnet
       

This is for the bruised eye, the swollen lip,
the blue panties torn at the elastic,
the bra cup hanging out of the laundry basket
and the yellowing half slip

almost as yellowed as the girdle.
This is for the intentional cosmic
silence that watched like Sputnik
overhead and heard her yell.

This is for his psychiatric hospital visits
and her court-appointed lawyer;
this is for the restraining order
whenever he ignored it.

This is for my mother cowering in a corner.
This is for my father who came home from war.

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Copyright © 2011 Stephen Gibson All rights reserved
from Paradise
The University of Arkansas Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission