My Father Tossed a Blue Savings Passbook into the Mud at Cedar Ridge

If the account was empty, the bank would simply have closed it.

They wouldn’t have stamped it restricted.

I looked down at the muddy blue passbook lying on my kitchen table.

I had no idea what kind of account got marked with a red stamp.

My father had thrown this into a muddy grave to make sure I would never pick it up.

He wanted it buried in the dirt with Beatrice forever.

I heard heavy footsteps in the hallway outside my door.