Thursday, September 16, 2010

My father


My father lies
in many tombs,
perhaps the organs
in medical rooms.
Friends we were
on Saturday morns,
hopping and shopping
and packages borne.
The books he read
made a reader of me
of justice and liberal
Christianity.
The vacations we took
when my mother passed,
best friends forever,
forever fast.
But what he left
was a bullshit free
spirit that lives
forever in me.



placed in Poets United Thursday Think Tank #15: Think about who you remember