Aunt Rita's Father Gets Bad News

Jennifer Blair

At the doctor’s office he only nodded,

picked up his coat, and left. One month

later, they found his truck on the reservation.

His relatives searched for awhile, then went

out to his garage and found enough for two

yard sales. End tables. Lamps. A dusty line of

stuffed quail traveling along a lacquered log.

Myriads of caps for an army of heads, coffee

mugs, fans, car batteries, even a strange belt-

contraption rumored to vibrate off a belly.

Still in perfect working order, a niece

commented as his giggling grandchildren

waited to take their turn inside the machine,

smart modern children, shaking, laughing—

perfectly dispossessed of the puerile belief

they would ever walk away thinned down.

#poetry

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