Father's Day

Let me sing about myself, or rather
Let me tell you something of my father.
He was a good man, first of all, the best
In numberless ways, from Portland, the west
End of Louisville. A worker by day,
And husband/father by night, my stay-
At-home mother’s best friend; and disciplined
To work and duty, faithful to church, deepened
By hard military experience,
A Marine, not given to prurience
But not without humor either. Unschooled
Like men of his time, wise and rarely fooled
By salesmen or shop girls. I will not disclose
His shortcomings. Allow me to keep them close
To my own heart for once, and not to speak
Of his secrets. What were the highest, the peak
Moments of his brief life? Perhaps my mother
Knew them. She admired the man, her other
Half, as they used to say. When he died at
Fifty-five, my life abruptly stopped. I sat
In a psychiatric hospital for
Six weeks, or paced its hard terrazzo floor,
Wondering how I got there and where should
I go from there. My greatest fear – he could
See me now, wherever I turned. Whatever
I did he oversaw. I could not sever
His spirit from me; it was many a year
Before I knew there was nothing to fear
From his knowing or his omnipresence;
Nor should I have been awed by his radiance.
My burden was to live with his good name,
To honor his memory, and hide the shame
That clogged my thinking. I often recall
Hamlet, "He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.”

Half a lifetime later, I miss the man.
He is still my hero, judge and standard
Although I am today less enamored
By his Greatest Generation code.
If my biography were named an ode
To my father’s decency, then I should
Think my life well-lived. He fathered a good
Man – myself – and nine others. Now let him
Rest and add his voice to angelic hymns.

I set out some time ago to tell
You of myself, but soon distracted, fell
Into an abyss of reminiscence
On my father, an icon, a god since
My earliest life. That’s enough for now;
I’ve said already more than he’d allow.

Pantoum

I’ll always take delight
In staying one place not saying goodbye
The cords of my heart are tight
You see, when I go I leave with a sigh

In leaving a place and saying goodbye
A harvest of anger insults
You see, when I go I leave with a sigh
With a scathing list of faults

A harvest of anger insults
The green reminiscence of long ago
With a scathing list of faults
Like bluebottle flies in garbage grow

The green reminiscence of long ago
Somewhere fresh with life
Like bluebottle flies in garbage grow
On the sickly edge of strife

Somewhere fresh with life
Simmers a world of homely dreams
On the prickly edge of strife
A promised land of honeyed streams

Simmers a world of homely dreams
The chords of my heart are light
A promised land of honeyed streams
I’ll always take delight

When she looked at me

When she looked at me I thought she turned her head.
It was the slightest twist, a look of vague surprise.
She caught my eye, perhaps I caught her glance
At me. Another hour the moment would pass
As all moments pass into that River Lethe
As if they never happened.

Really nothing in that silent gym had happened.
I saw her slender form, her blue eyes, and flaxen head
Of hair. I noticed my pleasure in surprise
As if I might yet be worth a second glance.
It might be fun to talk with her, to pass
Some time by the River Lethe.

I wish I could drink from that River Lethe
And forget some things that happened
Long ago. I would turn my life and head
Another direction. I might surprise
Myself with contentment. There’d be no fiery glance
To throw me into confusion. I could pass

My life on quiet gentle trails, explore a safer pass
Through lower mountain gaps and sip from Lethe
Streams both up and down. Whatever happened
Would not be so important. I’d let a wiser head
Than mine deal with the occasional surprise.
I might pause only in the forest clearings to glance

With satisfaction on my life. Once a casual glance
Through a restaurant window – I often eat alone to pass
The time -- sent me plunging for the River Lethe.
A one-time lover, absently staring through the pane, happened
To walk by as I raised my head.
We shared a painful start, a shocked surprise.

In that brief moment of mutual, unwanted surprise
I saw her lovely, familiar face transformed from empty glance
To angry fear. In that same instant my quiet passing
of an evening meal, left me thirsty for the waters of the Lethe,
Suddenly deeply shaken and scared, as if it happened
Over and over again, a curse upon my head.

I’ll turn my head, I’ll be surprised;

I’ll steal a glance as you pass by,

And drown us both in Lethe’s stream, as if we never happened.