Posted on February 2, 2011
(Note: Some time back I was toying with some poetry and thinking about doing a book even, but somehow I doubt that I’m going to. So I thought I might post these instead. They aren’t polished — which is generally how I write poetry…since I really write it for myself and not for anyone else. That may not make sense. Hm, let me just say that I generally write poetry when I’m in the moment. And since poetry is something I do for myself without any intention of getting it ready for publication (okay, normally, I should say as I have had a handful of poetry published), they are rough. Which I guess is a long, roundabout way of saying, be kind. These don’t have spit and shine. Anyway, here are three poems for your…erm, not enjoyment, exactly. Your viewing? And I realize as I type them up that the third one really isn’t even finished. But, eh, sometimes that is how it goes. So there you go.)
How it Starts
You see,
that’s how these things start.
One day,
everything normal
crazy routine
And then someone says
“Come here.
Sit down.
We need to talk.”
When really,
there’s nothing to say –
nothing at all.
The word cancer has
so much silence in it.
Fifty-four
My father is 54
as he sits across from me
…smoking a cigarette
That other “c” word
that led to the big C.
“Why stop now?”
he says with a wry grin,
almost like the old days
but it is gone,
vanished behind another puff of smoke.
Six Months
The doctors have
given him
Six Months
Like a gift you are afraid to open
wrapped in promises that won’t be kept.
What is
Six Months?
My head won’t do the math.
What percentage is that of a life
lived?
In Six Months
summer will be the past
and school will have started up all over again
)