mom and dad in a photo
a tiny blue metal race car grandma
gave to me when I was 32. There’s
an obelisk now in Skeleton Canyon.
Maybe you’re too close to the speaker.
Tell the Arthur Lee of Love confrontation
story. The tender does not approve of our
vulgarity. Double vocal for airports,
weekends and holidays. Numb grids
that represent human inaction. An incidental
arrival? Why that landing? The speaker of
the poem seems baffled to be in his/her
time continuum. Blind Willie McTell, Blind
Willie Johnson, playing together on the street corner.
Turn down the harp and make it feel more
distant. The next few minutes could hardly
be identified as words. A few fireman later,
the benefit of a lifelong love was clear. A locus
Of abnormal sensation. Harder to keep an
indiscriminate man from slaughter. Off state
extemporaneous crushed weight. Consulting
the at-bats for ideas of speed. I will be home
when my shirt is too dirty to wear.
Copyright Credit: Edmund Berrigan, “mom and dad in a photo.” Copyright © 2018 by Edmund Berrigan. Used by permission of the author for PoetryNow.
Source: PoetryNow (2018)