Sport Sedan Poem by Kevin Fisher-paulson

The social worker took my triplets in a sports sedan,
back to the woman who had broken them.
She would not take the chipped plaster Saint Jude.

My baby girl watched the ceanothus sapling,
a California lilac, not old enough for shade.
The social worker took my triplets in a sports sedan.

My middle boy could not, would not see
that fog was falling as the blue house faded,
She would not take the chipped plaster Saint Jude.

My boy with the oldest eyes watched me,
his colostomy scar a broken red.
The social worker took my triplets in a sports sedan.

This ancient child could speak one word: Daddy.
He whispered once as she turned on the road,
She would not take the chipped plaster Saint Jude.

Dogs still barked. Horns still honked on Winding Way,
She would not take the chipped plaster Saint Jude.
I opened a box of wine, could not pray.
The social worker took my triplets in a sports sedan.

October 28th, the Feast of Saint Jude, the Patron Saint of Lost Causes