To be stumped by the very last crossword puzzle you ever will work on, well, that’s defeat, but a small and amusing defeat. Here George Bilgere, a poet from Ohio, gives us a picture of his mother’s last day on earth.

Blank

When I came to my mother’s house

the day after she had died

it was already a museum of her

unfinished gestures. The mysteries

from the public library, due

in two weeks. The half-eaten square

of lasagna in the fridge.

The half-burned wreckage

of her last cigarette,

and one red swallow

of wine in a lipsticked

glass beside her chair.

Finally, a blue Bic

on a couple of downs

and acrosses left blank

in the Sunday crossword,

which actually had the audacity

to look a little smug

at having, for once, won.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation, publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2010 by George Bilgere from his most recent book of poems, The White Museum, Autumn House Press, 2010. Reprinted by permission of George Bilgere and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2010 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.