The Handy Man
(On Hearing That Jim's Aunt Jane Was Murdered Monday-4/11/88)
Jim's Aunt Jane, killed on Monday,
her wattled throat snapped
head-shaking tremor stilled at last
by her handy man out from jail
he'd forged her check two years before.
front door slammed in his face,
he came in the back.
musty rooms curtained green and maroon.
an upright piano, wedding pictures,
baby tears in dried bouquets.
body pushed under the ancient bed
silenced springs, two babies long ago.
swampy hills, cypress hung Spanish moss
back round the white capitol,
still lived-in slave shacks
antebellum family tree
his life the sacrifice,
seared with acid and angel dust.
concrete dream behind black bars
brought to her high front door.
pale blue eyes large with fear
slack skinned brittle bones in his hands
feeble struggle near the bed,
teeth clenched in the dim light
Why did you close the door?
he stilled the shake of
pink-palmed hand with cigarette smoke,
dropping ashes of evidence.
her black purse $22 and car keys.
he closed the door firmly on the mute house
he drove her 77 Chevy to
the gas station in the next town
bought a pint and pressed the bottle hard
against his numb gums the amber liquid
quieting the tremor of his hands.
-by Eva Shaderowfsky
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