All posts tagged Fathers

Andante Deliorosa

Published April 8, 2014 by rlmcdermott

Old Westbury
warm summer nights
in a three-piece suit
gray fedora
Walter Mitty
bobby pins
floral housecoat–
once around the block
without a license

coal mines
John L. Lewis
brick shithouse
St Paul of the Lily–
it took seven years
to ask her to marry him

Sister Anne Bernadette
Mary Schroeder
Nancy Drew
with a built-up shoe

Lost in New Jersey
Lost in Brooklyn
Lost in Manhattan
Lost on Long Island

No need to
ask for directions
right turn
left turn
bear right
bear left
was played by ear

To My Father (Poem by me, Drawing by my sister Patricia)

Published June 12, 2012 by rlmcdermott

What a spring that was
the season that I spent
in the hollow of your bone.
Sweet amputee, how
do I forget those sleeping
days and the sour sweat
of death against the shining
bandage of your smile.

We counted flesh like coins
that dropped from our hands
half spent–so little did you
bleed, so quite was your death.
Sweet amputee, how do I
forget those sleeping days
and the intensity of eyes
that never left my face
except to die unchallenged
while I slept.