Gone Emilee's Way

Gone Emilee's Way
by Dana Yost

A hymn
at her daughter's funeral
was also played the next
time the mother came for
worship,
as if another lashing was due.
How many of those reminders
will the parents contend with
as days and months unfold?
The father told me "Emilee
is everywhere in our house,"
meaning her clothes
and blue ribbons and the piano
she would practice on,
but so too the expectation
she'll be down soon
for breakfast,
or is outside, brushing
down her show horse.
That is an always thing,
like when I see great
glove work when the Twins
are on TV, and reach for the phone
to call my dad. "Hey,
did you see that?" I almost say,
before I remember he, too,
has gone Emilee's way.

(Reprinted with permission from Dana Yost and Spoon River Poetry Press)

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