portion of the artwork for David Rosenheim's poem

Edna Larson
David Rosenheim

No salt scrub 
nor chemical peel ever
shined that face

not Edna Larson
only the cadence of
94 summers and 
93 winters

one cow farm
round hills
misted valley
every summer night
a symphony

the good farm lost to
a tornado in ’38
hand to mouth for seventy years

alone in the
howling winter
old walls bending

still awake at four
relieve the brown cow
knotted, powerful hands

milk spits
into tin pail
steaming



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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 47 | Spring 2016