Last Visit to Montauk

by Lon S. Kaufman

Poppy and Gramma Kitty

pose by the shark fins.

The leathered skins

blur in continuum.



Travelers from Russia

Gramma assumed the life

of her young sister.

The burns on her arm

kisses from the steam press.

Her shift, the color of sunlight

quivers knowingly in the breeze.



His posture suggests an owner.

His peasant smile says otherwise.

Poppy owns a hand laundry.

The tattoo on his arm

quiets Gramma’s shift.



That afternoon Poppy

played an alligator at the beach.

That night he died of a heart attack.

At seven Death taught me forever.