The Conspirators

While on our cruise we saw the movie, "The Conspirators," about the assination of Abraham Lincoln and the hanging of Mary Sarratt, among others. It was a thought provoking movie; I'm not sure that all the questions about this woman were, or ever will be, answered. But thinking of the times and the fact that this was not the only American president assassinated, I wrote this poem. I was present, via TV, when the last one occurred. In fact, I had stood on a street in Houston, Texas, the day before and saw this young looking, tanned, president as he passed by me, climbed into the back of a convertible, and rode off, waving and smiling, on his way to the hotel to spend the night before he headed for Dallas.

Mary and Jackie

Mary was dressed fashionably
Was it pink like Jackie?
She sat beside her husband
In the theater box, enjoying a play,
Jackie sat beside her husband
In a car, enjoying the crowds,
Did Mary hear the applause that night
As Jackie heard on that sunny day?

At the sound of the shot
Husbands slumped, wives,
Reached out, seeking help,
Mary was removed from the room by doctors
Jackie clung to his hand as
He was pronounced dead.
Does anyone know if a president's blood
Splattered Mary's gown as it did Jackie's suit?

What we do know is this--
Both wives followed the caisson
Bearing assassinated presidents,
One to Illinois, the other to Arlington,
Both women, veiled, clad in blue-black widow's silk.
Veiled, we can only surmise, so the world
Could not see their hatred for the hypocrites
Among those standing along the way.