Dick
and Marg
Do not cry. It was five years ago
We didn’t think he’d last this
long
Dick, the neighbor. The white, fifties
house with an eagle above the door
The unmowed grass
Kids want to go look
I tell them thirty seconds. I
repeat
Sit at the window, peering, at an
extreme angle
Through a foot of warbled glass
They want more, ask to go up to
the porch roof
Hidden by a pine, the porch roof
On a soundless evening when the
birds are down
I am tempted myself
A long while passes. I wonder
What will they see of him?
Does one keep them in? Will they
dream
Of lights flashing red?
Too late to bring a plate of
cookies
What will become of the
landscaping
The paint job, the eagle? Does he
conjure Marg
Carrying her through the door, or
when she was wheeled out?
Then stomping, scurrying down
with news
Of seeing his foot move. His foot
I ask if they saw his face
They saw Dick’s face!
They saw Dick’s face
Ben says his heart is beating
super fast
I stroke his neck, remember his
birth, smelling him for the first time
Beating super fast
No comments:
Post a Comment