Please email me your thoughts about the latest poem I'm obsessing over. RuthDeming@comcast.net.
GUIDO GROWS UP
the sun crept up
behind our apple tree
the morning father died
I heard him call
Guido! Guido my boy!
your daddy needs you
though hair grew thick as
wheat upon my chest
and time had come
and gone
to have a family
of my own.
His Guido boy
was downstairs
having my
cheerios
holding a dry one
up to the light
peeking through
to read my daddy's fortune
Guido! I ran to the top
of the stairs
Lad raced up ahead of me
jumped on the bed
I'd never seen daddy dead
nor imagined the
nonchalance of it
the laissez-faire
the man who walked me
to the schoolbus
those wintry days in willow grove
before my brain began
its slow de-rail
an illness that has no name
a life without
a melody
O father
my protector
so dead now
lying barrel chested
as if the ceiling held
untenable pleasures
and your boy held none
Your riding mower
will rust in the garage
your grass will grow high
rioting with dandelions
over your proud lawn
Who will visit mother's grave?
the woman who filled in
my silences since I'm
slow to talk
I will not go to the bridge
this time
to stand and think of
the world without me
I will rise up and
walk the dog
and look at the snow
in the pine boughs
without father
I will lift the door
of the garage and
oil the mower
and be ready for next spring
when the grass grows without you
I lie my head on your silent chest
as the heavy feet
mount the stairs
and look out the window
as a boy on his bike
pedals up the hill
the boy does not know
nor does the world
a simple matter
a man who cannot leave his bed
or close the windows when it rains
or sing a holiday song
all the grief is mine to bear
here at 89 Edge Hill Road.
