My Mother at Pleasant Hills by Scott Silsbe

If I take a moment and think of any Beatles song
that references the sun, hear it somewhere distant
in my brain, I’m a child again riding the backseat
of some old clunker of a car, on the longish drive
to the church camp on the other side of the state.
And I can see my mother, clad in a bright yellow
Pleasant Hills t-shirt, sitting outside our green tent
at a picnic table, down at the dock by the beach,
at the softball diamond, or perhaps on a log at a
large campfire. I can see her hair in an 80s-style
perm, can see her large sunglasses, and picture her
there, laughing with friends or singing about Jesus,
about salvation, about the life to come after this life.

Scott.Silsbe2
Scott Silsbe was born in Detroit. He now lives in Pittsburgh, where he writes, makes music, and works as a bookseller. His poems have appeared in numerous periodicals including Lilliput Review, Nerve Cowboy, and Chiron Review. He is the author of Unattended Fire (Six Gallery Press, 2012), The River Underneath the City (Low Ghost Press, 2013), and the forthcoming collection Muskrat Friday Dinner (White Gorilla Press, 2017).
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