Astounding the assemblage, auto parts,
tools, tires, all sorts of mismatched, unused things.
How odd the memory this junkyard brings:
Am I someone unloved, cast off, whose heart’s
desire is simple? Give me daily bread,
and in the giving, share your kindness. Touch
me at my depth. I fear there isn’t much
to me, that what my father, back then, said–
“Nothing but skin and bones, a skeleton–”
is true. He spoke about my weight, but all
I heard was “Nothing,” and I took a fall
in confidence. Then he and I were done.
Well, so it seemed. Relationship of rocks
made pleasing him impossible. I tried.
O, did I try…but couldn’t. Yes, I cried
so often, wondering about the clocks
that seemed to stop. We didn’t talk for years.
2009: Lung cancer claimed him. We
both wrote, so had fun sharing poetry.
I wonder still if he knew all my fears.
Astounding the assemblage, parts of life
that color where we go and what we do.
I want to hear a songbird sing, dove coo,
instead, sometimes, hear dissonance of strife.