Stefan
By Laura D. Roosevelt
Because my “Sometimes salad
makes me sad” socks gave him
the giggles, I wore them a lot.
But now, how to thank
someone who’s gone? I mean dead,
but I hate naming it with Stefan,
whose hands healed my aches, whose
wisdom echoes in my head,
a man so animated his loss
seemed to mute the earth.
I brought him my hens’ eggs, hot
homemade bread, garden greens,
but best was wearing the socks
that doubled him over in mirth.
Laura D. Roosevelt is a poet, journalist, and copy editor.
Poets with a connection to Martha’s Vineyard are encouraged to submit poems to community@mvtimes.com. Please include a two- to three-sentence bio.
