It would be “ignorant”

If we didn’t stop by

my sister’s house

while visiting cousin Brett

genius relative from my father’s side

who writes and loves the symphony

in the Paris of the Appalachians, Pittsburgh, PA

Her real father’s name was never mentioned

while we were being raised

My husband parked in her alley

We got there at noon

Most are awake by then

We knock

No answer

Let ourselves in

Her one- eyed cat must have sprayed

The kitchen holds ammonia notes

I pussyfoot into the living room

dark except for tv light

where she lies sunken into the couch

arms folded across her chest

a sweet smile on her lips

quiet as an orchid

Oh! How I  love her!

I tell my husband

I can’t tell if she’s breathing

There is no movement

She may be dead

A notification rings and awakens her

She sits up

grabs her Salems and phone

notices me

Hi Kath

I say weakly

We just stopped by to say hello

before heading back to Long Island