My beautiful sister,
Gay Iowa poet’s baby sister,
Ellen Beth Heike Mathis,
Knew the truth did naught,
What Diana had on Ellen killed Ellen,
Fifty-nine full of nine,
Long to hear as dad called Ellen,
Baby Ellen,
Sometimes when I’m all alone and so sad,
On the breeze I can nearly hear,
Ellen’s voice in her inclination,
Way without hesitation,
‘Val take a chill pill!’
I’d like to go for rides with Ellen at Cub Lake,
To sit on the screened in front porch immediately and play cards is ghosts ,
Cousin Ann’s ashes rest there,
With dad and Ellen and soon me too,
Val Whitewolf 