Mrs. Teabody Honors her Father
The following poems were written during the final year of my father's life. How I wish you all could have met him. I love and miss you, Dad!
A Trio of Poems for my Father
1
Look how small I am.
Soon I will fit in a suitcase
Look at my alabaster skin
Soon I will be transparent
Look at my wispy white hair
Soon my pate will gleam
Look at my ruined skin
My poorly-drawn blood blotches
Look at my . . .
Hands like scurrying rabbits
. . . Like chasing rodents
. . . Like vices
What do hands do?
What in God’s name do hands that always did . . . do?
When there is nothing to do but:
- grab at the air for another part that’s come undone
- grab the rail and dream of ships and hay wagon hitches and motorcycles and levers
- grab the knees and dream of plunging into a summer stream -- the shock of cold water heart-stopping
- grab invisible food and dream of hotdogs with mustard and onions
- grab offered hands and dream of greeting old friends, a revered uncle, a darling grandchild
- grab at hands to say “I don’t want you to . . . Don’t”
This is what I do now
I grab and swear and ramble
Can’t you see I’m busy?
Can’t you see I’m busy?
Can’t you see I’m busy?
2
This is no father of mine
Any minute my real father will raise his head
And twinkle his eyes and say, “Fooled ya!”
And I will forgive him and say, “You sure did!”
3
Here’s what I’d give my father if I could:
Perfect eyesight to go with his beautiful eyes
Perfect ears, and I’d sing for him.
A longer temper
A parkerhouse roll
Brothers, a sister, an uncle
A haircut when he wanted one
A red pickup and in the back:
Snoopy, Lady and Ginger
An imperfect boat--his favorite kind.
Real presents to open
A power nap
A poke of RedMan
A hula-honey
Some hard-earned money
A lawn of green
And a Huffy machine
Something to fix
Quail on toast to eat
An audience
(I reckon I could hold the bag open
While he shoveled in the wheat)
Honey bees
Zoo-key-knees
A cone of chocolate
Friday night fights
New razor blades, Old Spice
Coon hunts and fur trades
A real smile
No beer
No fear.
Comments
Post a Comment