Yesterday
in sorting, shifting house
I came upon my dead father's watch, a wristwatch
with large face and metal band
that marked it as of a certain time
in marking time
In my throat there caught and formed a swelling egg of grief, of loss
Brushing lightly across the well of tears
I staved them off
suppressed them as inconvenient
for I was working and not alone
Please, I pray, do not let this be a final dismissal
of his import or my gratitude
He was as large as life: expansive and wise
fixed and blindered
quick to laugh and quick to glare
too smart by half and always giving credit where perhaps little credit was due
I am his true child
I will miss him until Heaven.

November 15, 2007 © Lynn Maudlin, all rights reserved
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