Archive for April, 2017


Dear Papa

April 27, 2017

Today is the day I miss you most because I’m reminded that you’re gone.
Not not here, but gone.
No more on the other side of the phone,
other side of the mountains,
other side of the sea.

And it hurts.
It hurts more now than it did then.
Because it becomes more true with every day that goes.
I do things you’ll never know about,
Write poems that are terrible and some that are awesome and some that are so good it sucks that I can’t show you.

I remember being in the car next to you,
you were driving me to school because I’d missed the bus and had to walk all the way back up the hill and you had to get out of bed and drive me,
We weren’t getting along great back then.
I was that age,
And you were that scared.
You didn’t know what to do except yell and pull out what hair you had left.
And I was learning how to run away.
I never got far, but it was just enough to terrify you,
As it should’ve.

I was sitting next to you in the car, writing a poem as we drove

‘I’m watching my life go by at a real time pace of 30km an hour.’
Or something like that, all angst melodrama, and frustrated 14 year old.

But it goes faster than that,
I wish I’d known that then.
I would have hugged you hard,
Kissed you goodbye every time I climbed out of the car.
That’s the problem with perspective,
Until I got some,
I didn’t have any.

But I’m so glad I had you.
I love you, papa.


Abluvion – That which is washed away

April 24, 2017

Tin roof tintype,
a metronome snapshot
of the spaces between raindrops.
An accompaniment,
heaven sent,
for better or worse,
this intermediary between
grey skies and green

A melancholy rendering
Of this familiar,
many splendored thing.

Often we were defined by harmony,
And it seemed we never knew dischord
The piano keys, bone bright
Ivory white and always
Helped me find my way home again.

You were a gateway,
A door that hung on hinges
With a heart that hinged on the weight of a glance
Like a whispered memory of the way my pale skin looked under both moonlight
And you.


%d bloggers like this: