I see my obituary:
I will have died 9 October 2014.
They got my name almost right.
That’s where I stopped reading.
“Robin Williams is depressed again.”
She was less concerned than smug
that he had called her.
In the car, at night,
Two ladies discuss the arts.
I’m behind the wheel?
Time to turn on the headlights
and drive.
I meet my old boss and interns
for lunch. My place gets taken,
then taken again. I have secret treasure
to record, and no one knows it.
In a small pot, four goldfish.
I’m taking them back
to the tub garden, but
three have died already.
I must have waited too long.
Karen Greenbaum-Maya, a clinical psychologist in Claremont, California, started out as a German Lit major so that she could read poetry for credit. She has reviewed restaurants for the Claremont Courier, sometimes in heroic couplets. Her poems have appeared in Spring Harvest, and soon in Untamed Ink.
