Coming Home: a septina

sweat and sawdust mingle now,
the smell of chainsaw and pitch,
amber in its conception
but also bark’s blood scattered.
Van carries tired children
home to their dinner and beds
from the sun-broiled midway,
from cotton candy and noise.

The woods here make gray greenness
in the shivering sundown,
streaks of pink falling on ferns,
yet the maples turn orange
not from the twilighting day
but from expected autumn:
Woodsmoke rises from chimneys.

Memories of morning flee.
Breakfast was tinkling glasses,
a shattered cereal bowl,
ham and eggs on Yom Kippur,
with cheese in the eggs, no less.
Count off, find your buddy, please,
Buckle your seat belt, let’s go!

But that was ages ago,
before the traffic and cops,
before the midway and rides,
before the money was missed,
before the missed rendez-vous,
before the lost sheep wandered,
before prodigal came home.

Amid merchants and barkers,
Amid outcastes of all stripes–
punks and preppies and rednecks
(clothed in their country’s costumes),
each alone in the masses
or happy in their party,
I sought one without passport,
and found him, safe and secure.

Fathers are prone to feasting.
There is time for some triumph —
a weary settling-up;
an accounting of the day —
but not over fatted calf
and good wine from the cellar.
Water and a nap will do.

There’s some money still missing,
and half an hour of road
and growing dusk to get through.
But the whole van is sleeping,
and most of them had good days,
though some will not admit it…
and I know the road from here.


Comments are welcomed. Please. This is definitely a first draft

6 comments

  1. in reference to the last post that led me here…

    ooh. carnival & Yom Kippur. that’s a hella day, you. at least you got a pretty good poem out of it, tho’…

    sorry i’m not in a good mode to crit, but i can tell you that i holistically, i dig the piece, & particularly like this line:
    I sought one without passport,
    a lot.

    xoxoxoxox

  2. in reference to the last post that led me here…

    ooh. carnival & Yom Kippur. that’s a hella day, you. at least you got a pretty good poem out of it, tho’…

    sorry i’m not in a good mode to crit, but i can tell you that i holistically, i dig the piece, & particularly like this line:
    I sought one without passport,
    a lot.

    xoxoxoxox

  3. if you change it

    … do not change it much; for it is good and I like it.

    (reading your poetry is much easier for me now that I can hear it in your voice. It doesn’t work in my voice, but in yours, it surely does)

  4. if you change it

    … do not change it much; for it is good and I like it.

    (reading your poetry is much easier for me now that I can hear it in your voice. It doesn’t work in my voice, but in yours, it surely does)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.