The poem may have been about you,
though it didn’t mention you by name.
So the you could actually be any you.
And the me. I admit the me is me
or was me when I wrote the poem,
not necessarily the me I am today.
It’s just a poem about a poet’s son.
I have poems of a poet’s daughter,
wife, father, mother, sister, brother.
Poems of my grand boys, grand girls,
with hopes that someday I’ll write
poems of my great grandchildren, too.
because the human body is not infinite
nor is it immortal at least not yet
the inevitable is only a question
of timing
perhaps it has already happened
with no way to know it
my father said goodbye and
it was sure nice to see you
wish you were closer
hardly anyone comes to see me
wish my kids were closer
don’t see you ‘old guys’ much
maybe if some were closer…
and maybe he said more
i don’t recall because
this was a litany on replay
cued by any break in the long
silence from california
washington
utah
and anywhere in new mexico
other than where he is
not that any of us mean
him any disrespect
or would ever think of offending
but life happens for us too
and there is always a cost
involved in every visit
it makes me wonder
if the complete lack of loneliness
that i feel about my own sons
and their infrequent contact
is just a way of warding off
talking the way my father does
fencing off a sense
of abandonment and
waiting for the last time
With his
bull terrier
temperament
he stood like Monet
by the San Fernando Valley pool
of rippling blue relatives
some in mid summersault
while other under
water kids in loud swim suits
spouted splash from their lips
like plaster cupids
and him snapping, “Hold still!”
trying to get the shot
for all time
and here I am
now a thirty
year old later
thumbing through
the
negatives
of us kids
under developed
we look like
fish apples
bobbing above water
visual inside out
legacies
we were
his water lilies
it was so like him
to leave behind these
Kodak canvases
More at https://www.ivanjenson.com/.
My father had a hardware store
He was always opening boxes
He sold CASE knives in the store
He could have had any size he wanted
He chose this little model
2 1/2 inches when closed
It was perfect
Sharp as they come
Fit in his back pocket
Didn’t weigh a lot
When he died 20 years ago
My cousin collected up his belongings
Made up a package
A key ring, a comb, a money clip, other stuff
The knife however is the jewel in the crown
I use it almost every day
It was MADE IN THE USA
Engraved into the blade
That used to mean something
Still does