FAITH

by Despy Boutris

I knew the dying was coming—

knew her heart struck twelve

because I couldn’t sleep,

could only gaze out at the hallway,

past my door as it creaked

on its hinges, the wind outside

the open window running

its hands over everything in sight.

If I closed my eyes, I could pretend

it was my grandmother, running

her fingers through my hair.

I knew my father would call soon,

stranded at the hospital with her,

not wanting me

or my brother to see death so young.

I knew the lawyer would stop by,

present us with her

will. I didn’t know she’d leave

my brother her rocking chair,

and me: my favorite breakfast—

her recipe for buttered biscuits.

Didn’t know my father’s face

could glisten with tears or how hard

I’d sob, or how my mother’s palm

would smooth back my hair

me as we watched the coffin descend

into the ground, my grandmother

making her way into eternal life,

as the priest promised.

I wish I believed in eternal life.

It’s too much work to try

to imagine a realm without darkness,

no croaking

toads, nothing with claws.

It’s too hard to believe in her

cheering for me up above.

But how tempting it is to have faith

in her floating like pollen above us,

the clouds blurring her angles,

her body all tangled up with God’s.

* * * * *

"Faith" was first published in Prairie Schooner.

Despy Boutris is published or forthcoming in American Poetry Review, Copper Nickel, Colorado Review, The Adroit Journal, Prairie Schooner, Palette Poetry, Third Coast, Raleigh Review, Diode, The Indianapolis Review, and elsewhere. Currently, she teaches at the University of Houston and serves as Assistant Poetry Editor for Gulf Coast.