When my father died
We moved to the Hill Country.
And when my aunt died
We moved to Lubbock.
Blue Northers from the Panhandle
Blinding dust storms out of the West.
My mother’s other sister
Was our keeper and provider and we
Were not unlike prisoners.
Me in high school.
My mother sick in bed.
The house was a two-story red brick
Rooming house with a Church of Christ
Behind and a funeral home cater-corner.
My aunt kept her deceased husband’s
Bible in a closet that like a refrigerator
Gave me a place to go
And look as though
There’d be something to see
Or someone I could maybe talk to.