Ms. Cora And Me Poem by Richard D Remler

.......



Ms. Cora List, who only
Knew me as Sam,
And was certain I
Was the last surviving

Son of a Mr. William
Peace Bonner, from
Lewistown, Pennsylvania,
Had an infectious laugh.

She would sit there for
Hours on end, diving in
And out of memories
That would drown an

Ordinary man. And
She'd laugh that laugh
That made the early
Afternoon air dance a

Bit, just because it
Wanted to. She told me
About London in Nineteen
Hundred and Thirty-three.

Of midwives old and
Young fighting the rain
And the snow and the
Heat just for the

Mothers-to-be that
Had nobody else to
Depend on. She spoke
Of stillbirths and tears

And fat old men in
Suspenders who had
Nothing better to do
Than stand outside in

The drifting fog, smoking
Hastily rolled cigarettes
Or filling cheap tobacco
Into over-smoked pipes

In annoyed anticipation,
Not knowing if things
Were well or not. They
Were a funny lot,

Gloomy wet hats and
Suspenders and bushy
Mustaches that needed
But seldom received a

Good trimming. Over-
Grown eyebrows far too
Ruggish not to laugh at.
And stupid man eyes.

They always looked empty,
She said. Like they knew
They ought to be saying
Something, but had no

Idea what it was supposed
To be. And Ms. Cora
Would drink her sweet tea
As if it were some sloe gin,

And grin, and tell me I
Looked like my father. I
Had his eyes, and his strong
Chin. And I was tall.

She must have liked him,
This Mr. William Peace
Bonner, from Lewistown,
Pennsylvania, who I

Did not know, but who
Must have meant a good
Memory or two to
Ms. Cora. She showed

Me photographs. Pointed
Things out, and said, "That's
My Daddy. He died in the
War." And, of course, he

Looked like a man who
Would have died in some
Kind of war. They never
Smiled in those old

Photographs. They just gazed
Dead-eyed at the camera
Like it was some demon
Box meaning to steal

Their soul, or something
Similar. She pointed to
A larger picture and said,
"That is my sister Irma

Jean Louisa Hamwell,
And she was my twin.
We had twins back then
Too, " She told me.

"She married an army boy.
Handsome boy too. Had
A nice smile. Shame they
Couldn't have children.

They would have been good
Looking kids, they woulda."
And she gazed out over the
Lake and lost herself

In another memory. And
I watched her, her thin
Smile awash with a quiet
Joy and a simple sort of

Bemusement. She came
Around some time after,
And looked about, and
When she saw me sitting

There, across from her,
She had to look again, then
Again, and her smile was
Lost. "Mr. William? "

She finally said after some
Time, unsure if I were
There, or if she were seeing
A ghost. "Mr. William,

I thought you died, Sir.
You died, sir. Did you die,
Sir? " And I did not
Know what to say,

She seemed so lost.
Her eyes had lost their
Wild wonderful color
Once more, and she did

Not move, and her breath
Was slow, and she wiped
Tears away, and I said,
"No, Ms. Cora. I'm

Sam. Samuel Binn,
From Davenport. You were
Just sharing how beautiful
Your sister was, and

How she had married
An army boy." And
Ms. Cora seemed to
Ponder this for a moment,

Then two, then three.
And her smile slowly
Returned. And she let
Out a soft, gentle,

Morning sigh, and said,
"Shame they couldn't have
Children. They would have
Been some good looking kids."



Copyright © MMXIVRichard D. Remler