Lilly

Lilly

He drove the sky-blue

Chevy pickup on the day she

died,

first time in twenty years he'd

had her

on the road,

he'd made the

preparations

long before

the box was pine

but, as we knew, his tools

were all the best

in town

some called that lid the finest

cabinetry

in five surrounding counties

no one was invited

but we stood

across the street

to watch

till Thomas asked,

You want a hand there,

Baxter?

all he said was

I've got work to do,

it's no one's work

but mine

and with his come-a-long,

log-chain

and a live-oak limb

he lowered her

into the hole

and shoveled it silent

after 21 years

she'd finally got that new

cabinet

and an evening's drive

in Baxter's sky-blue Chevy