$10,000 Socks

2020

The last time I saw her whole body, Grandma rolled towards us wearing hospital-issued yellow socks. Two weeks later during her Zoom funeral Dad introduced me to her favorite hymn. With stunning synchronicity, I heard that hymn ringing from a nearby church the next day. After six months, I have her socks, a pillow, a piece of glass, and words to carry the weight of those weeks.

Socks and a pillow underneath etched glass, on top of a black cloth-covered pedestal. The text reads:

In thawed air, dead things proclaim pungence.

Fox sparrows summoned
with a stuttered whistling clatter.
I stepped onto our back porch to answer
and heard a faint ringing In The Garden.
It must have been North Park’s steeple
like they knew
her favorite hymn
He walks with me and He talks with me
bell swells mingled with the yellowing stench
of dropped dogwood blossoms,
bruised and putrid, decaying at my feet.

Spring sounds and the smell of death.