Thursday, March 28, 2013
Monday, March 18, 2013
CHANNELLING
CHANNELLING
Late into the night,
toward morning,
my aging father is channelling
ghosts - get in the car
son - take down those old
family photos - put them
in the car - they'll be waiting
for us - I've got to drive to Austin.
He fumbles in his pocket
for the keys he no longer has.
His words come alive
out of the past as if there were
a future for them, imminent.
Son - get in the car - we've
got to go.
Fathers and sons - what does
pass between them,
unseen, unacknowledged?
He looks at me then
from across the room,
from a distance I've never
seen before, or even
considered.
I turn off the light,
close his door, get
in his car and head west
toward Texas,
dawn following me the whole way.
©Laurence Holden, 2013
Late into the night,
toward morning,
my aging father is channelling
ghosts - get in the car
son - take down those old
family photos - put them
in the car - they'll be waiting
for us - I've got to drive to Austin.
He fumbles in his pocket
for the keys he no longer has.
His words come alive
out of the past as if there were
a future for them, imminent.
Son - get in the car - we've
got to go.
Fathers and sons - what does
pass between them,
unseen, unacknowledged?
He looks at me then
from across the room,
from a distance I've never
seen before, or even
considered.
I turn off the light,
close his door, get
in his car and head west
toward Texas,
dawn following me the whole way.
©Laurence Holden, 2013
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