Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Tuesday Poem: From The Grove In The Eye Of Light


The one and only time
we went to the park with Daddy,
I swung so high and long
it made me sick, and I had to
lie down on a bench to
make the world stop tilting
this way and that.

When I looked at them
sideways, the swings
heaved in and out,
like too many shallow breaths,
and Tommy became a blur,
a dream on the merry go round,
its silver handles pushed and pushed
by the big kids, until dark forces
snatched backwards so hard he had to let go,
flying, his legs and arms splayed,
landing hard, with a splat, in a
mud puddle big as a watering hole,
where he sat in shock all soaked
and mucky from head to toe.

When Daddy saw him,  he sauntered over,
told him to get up, we were leaving,
made us wade across the grass,
ankle deep through bruised pink
blossoms, all the way to the parking lot,
where Tommy had to stand still
while Daddy stripped him down
to his underwear, throwing
his wet clothes in the trunk,
to keep him from ruining
the Pontiac’s upholstry.

How hard he cried then,
leaning into my arms,
until he fell asleep,
on the long ride home,
the two of us lost
in the back seat’s
velvet gloom, 
and Daddy’s

1 comment:

Helen McKinlay said...

Aah this is at once sad and so typical of the way a child's imagination and perceptions differs from an adults and also how absolutely dumb we adults can be in this area. You have expressed it beautifully. It sounds like it sums up Dad too. Hmm