giving my apple core a toss
watching it arc
and land in a forest clearing
i think of you Dad
saying where should i plant
an apple tree today
a habit from boyhood summers
at your uncle’s orchard
continuing into your college days
on a motor scooter
with Mom exploring every mountain
and forest in Pennsylvania
the fall and only the fall
was for apples
culminating in your favorite
the stayman winesap
The slow and steady
accumulation of snow
making everything strange
reminds me of my father
reading aloud to the family
from a book in his lap,
the whisper of pages turning,
each of us building a picture
all our own.
Fists,
Beating,
My back.
Parent,
Continues,
To attack.
Mother,
Runs,
Away.
Father,
Continues,
The pain.
And then,
It's over,
They smile.
Offer me,
I could have sworn
the child was not
going to cry
when I told her
to stop chewing
on her fingers
and stay close so
I can see her
but yeah she cried
and yeah she screamed
and she stood on
the equipment
of the playground
looking like she
wanted to hitch
a ride out of
Why?
Mother,
Whys is the grass green?
Why is the sky blue?
Why is the world big?
Why do people say its small too?
Why do people die?
Why are babies born young?
Why are there taste buds?
In my tongue?
Why do I weep?
When I cut my knee?
Why does one and one make two and not three?
And why, mummy,
Just one more,
When father left,
The journey ahead looks pretty far
I'll just play here and be the star!
Away from reality, living the fantasy
How beautiful my world can be!
Tim, ready your sword and let us fight the monster
I'll be the warrior and you'll be the hunter
And let us find the happily ever after!
Let us play, and play until mom brings us home
I miss my dad, he told me he will be fighting
Day after day, I keep on writing
Letters for him to show how I miss him
And how mom bought me ice cream!
Two months has passed and a man came at the door
And said that my father charged into the core
He told my mother, that dad is no more
I ran into my room, and cried on the floor
I dont understand
Why people seporate,
How people deal with their selves if they upset someone,
how a person could just disappear.
But most of all
how a dad could stop talking to his baby girl
why people can get so upset
who would care more about their girlfriend than their kid
What i understand most is
who i can trust
how hard it is for kids who's dads are gone
who really would do most to stay with me
where I should really be
He was a little boy; just turned two,
Walking at the park, with his mother in blue.
To everyone he saw, this is what he'd say,
"Hey! My daddy's comin' home today.
He's been at the war, fighting for us,
But now he's coming home in that army bus.
He promised he'd come today in his letter.
I used to miss him, but this will make it all better."
The people would look in the mother's green eyes,
They saw the pain and regret of the lies.
And they knew the truth, as it is for some,
That boy would be waiting for what would never come.
Its spine broken and torn
Leaves left devoured by silverfish,
Corners crumbling with age -
My hands tremble as I open the book.
Carefully, tenderly, I turn the frontispiece -
Shabby, tattered yet holding up together
With a dignity that only books can have -
I shake out the dust and faecal matter.
The book is still silent, slightly embarrassed
But not showing any -
Like my mother, paralysed
As I clean her with wet cotton blobs.
In the left corner of the first page
The book said -
‘With all good wishes to my son’
Signed, my father, forty years ago.
Whenever I miss you,
It always rains..
Perhaps to help me,
Hide my pain..
Just like you used to,
Pat my back..
Telling me I did ok,
Even if I failed..
It's getting hard,
I want to come back..
I met many people,
But no one like you Dad..
It wasn't her fault.
None of it was.
The grades gone wrong.
And he blamed 'that boy'.
'Its not him'
She said through the tears.
'You have a choice' he bellowed.
'Fine I choose him'.
Those words now haunt him.
Taunt him.
Day and night.
His little girl grew up.
In one day.
'Why?' He asked
'Oh the choices I gave'.
Memory
mother of the Muses:
"I remember, I remember", that
was my father
"and when you are older"
holding on/to words
for fear of losing his mind,
--meaning words
" you'll be
sorry one day"
But I was on
a roller coaster and
the rides on the house. The question mark
was too far out for me
nor did those jewels
arrayed along the shelves