Requiem Twenty-Five Years Later
In memory of my daughter Jessica (May 18, 1974–May 24, 1996)
Jane Ellen Glasser
Again and again I hear the crunch of metal,
the spray of fractured glass, the blasted crack
of the giant oak, eviscerated, spilling sap.
What flew from her mouth I can only guess–
a gasped screech as her head struck the window
and her neck broke easy as twigs in a storm.
Or was she silent in those seconds of unknowing
what would pass. There was no time for tears
so she stored them in the reliquary of my heart.
In memory of my daughter Jessica (May 18, 1974–May 24, 1996)
Jane Ellen Glasser
Again and again I hear the crunch of metal,
the spray of fractured glass, the blasted crack
of the giant oak, eviscerated, spilling sap.
What flew from her mouth I can only guess–
a gasped screech as her head struck the window
and her neck broke easy as twigs in a storm.
Or was she silent in those seconds of unknowing
what would pass. There was no time for tears
so she stored them in the reliquary of my heart.