The Last Time We Saw You

by C.J. Couvillion
(Baton Rouge, LA)

The last time we saw you three years ago,
You were wrapped in plastic and so very cold.
Your lips were blue and your skin was green,
The curl of your hair though could still be seen.
Edges of your mouth turned up in a smile,
You looked happy, peaceful; resting for a while.

Did you know we’d be coming to see you,
On that day in April when you died?
Did you realize it was happening,
If so would you have tried?
To be more presentable to us, your mom and me,
The last time we saw you in downtown Philly.

Would you have come to the hotel to meet us,
On that day when we arrived?
We’d have gone out to eat,
For sure that night,
Probably pizza, maybe spaghetti, something alright,
The last time we saw you, it was a terrible sight.

The last time we saw you in 2010,
has changed us forever and ever again.
We can’t look to a crowd without looking for you,
And holidays celebrated are hollow for sure.
I still have your wallet if you ever need it back,
And your mom kept your papers; she saw to that.

Nettles called the other day in quite a fit,
seems he shared his grief a little amiss.
Sarah’s not the same,
She’ll never be.
And that Boy of hers is a swimmer,
Oh man, you should see.

He mentioned his Uncle this week in the car,
Says he’s sad and he’s getting rather tall.
We never see Dani anyone,
She’s moved to the mountains or maybe the shore?
And Mama Lucy died last month,
Or maybe you know.

The last time we saw you,
It goes on in my dreams,
Like Papa Frosty’s Okinawa,
he could still hear the screams.
I write to describe it,
To know what it all means.