by Deborah Akers
vinyl stiff, glossy red
dangling from
tangled hands
bought to meet her
merchant marine husband
at the Oakland pier
three battling kids
back in the car
she scowls at the strain
of waiting, heart
sharp and fierce
a beacon aimed
toward the docked ship
his shape on the deck
errant American, he strides
forward, presses a handful
of foreign coins
sell these
you’ll make the mortgage,
easy
cleaning after her death
we unearth the purse
stowed deep
in closet’s night
it holds the scorned coins
two rosaries
her union card
the deed to the house
and three keyless padlocks