Poem On My Father's Birthday


for my father

Bored only child
and no one watching;
ill-bred, sun-burnt
truant, hooking
half-dead night crawlers,
tossing them into muddy water,
I doze on the bank,
dreaming--a lake clear
to the bottom, a mirror
of trees with roots cool
as celery, with roots so old
and long they hug
the earth’s warm heart--
until the urgent tugging,
a taut line, signals
another catch
I won’t throw back,
though it’s small
and mean. Somehow,
it reminds me of you,
the way it sheens
phosphorescent, bleeds
neatly, smells
like the beginning of the world.


Nick (CFKS) said...

Very nice.

Sade said...

This poem inspired me to paint a picture today.

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