in the back yard
gray rocks without meaning unlike the three rocks
placed in white raked sand at the Japanese Gardens
in Lethbridge My aunt and cousin are with me
We go on a sunny windy day
to see the five tiered Pagoda
with ceremonial bell
and island shaped like a turtle
Japanese girl in traditional kimono
explaining “nothing in the garden
must distract from mediation”
I am only half-listening
Before entering the tea room
we take of our shoes
The Pagoda is made without nails
The wood imported from Japan
There are probably other things
I should remember
but mostly I remember my aunt in pink flowered dress
exclaiming “I thought there’d be flowers in the garden at least!”
On that same day another aunt Great Aunt
dying in hospital Hush of nurses
vases of flowers on the night stand IV attached to her hand
steady drip drip of liquid into her body tubes like vines reaching
A week later
I sit with cousins
stare at the open coffin the smiling face
White coffin surrounded by flowers at a time when
life becomes a joke Distracted I wonder How many nails
to make a church? Where is the wood imported from? Lilies
and yellow mums and roses other times other places
This morning three rocks without meaning jutting up from snow.