Months To Years Fall 2018 Months To Years Fall 2018 - Page 60

Pale Green Mourning By Maureen Teresa McCarthy Every morning And pale green leaves. After my father died The same pale green My mother set one place As her placemat For herself The soft green of early spring At the kitchen table. The pale green Of a woman alone. One pale green placemat Cup and saucer The cup and saucer are mine now. Knife and spoon The cup is filled with soft green ivy One small plate And sits on the kitchen windowsill. The sugar bowl Every morning And the butter dish. I pour my coffee into One folded napkin. One tall white mug And carry it back to my bed. The cup and saucer are cream white Banded with rosebuds Maureen Teresa McCarthy is a central New York native who left for 10 years to live in California. She received a Bachelor of Arts in American Studies from San Francisco State University and subsequently worked at Harcourt Brace. After traveling through Europe and Mexico, she returned to the Finger Lakes and completed her Master of Arts in American Literature at Syracuse University. She taught Composition and Basic Writing at various community colleges while raising two sons. She published the essay, “Grand Voyager,” in At Grandmother’s Table: Women Write about Food, Life and the Enduring Bond between Grandmothers and Granddaughters (Fairview Press, 2001) and “In Our Mothers’ Gardens” in That Great Sanity (University of Michigan Press, 1995). She has completed a Civil War novel (as yet unpublished) and is a lifelong poetry writer. 60