the only poem i ever wrote
So, I’m sure as hell not a poet, but I did write one poem once. It’s an abecedarian, and I published it the literary journal I edited (I don’t think I could’ve gotten any other editor to do it…). I’m posting it here. It still needs a lot of work. It’s about seeing my grandfather with my dad just before he died.
The Setting Sun and Its Satellites • for Fred V.Rowland
“A clearer image, the
blankness of this page,” you groan.
Clutching a smile, you grope for the two of us —
δελφοι hardly old enough to breathe. It’s
enough “To understand poetry,” you yelled with
fifty-five years of malice, “know me.”
Grip these four hands, feel years of our creativity to come
Hold this line, your first and last
Illumination danced across that sterile white room
jumped out of your eyes
kept contained only by our fingertips.
Long nights aside, this was our best time together.
My hand on the bedpost, trying to
not disturb what looks like peaceful sleep.
Our eyes are open
Pouring out on the cliffs of our skulls.
“Quiet.” Your wiry hands find the back of our necks.
“Remember the pain of painlessness.
So much is lost on an empty canvas.”
Taking these words for the first line of your biography
Underneath those three odd layers of blankets in
varying positions you sleep, a hundred thousand
withering lines skipping through your head.
X-ing out all the ones you don’t need us to need.
You’ll stay in between these, your
zeal directing us until you can no longer hear.
