My dad and I found ourselves at three matinees this week sharing buttered popcorn and a giant-sized medium coke. We’ve seen “1917,” “Ford versus Ferrari,” and “Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker.” “1917” left us somber and awed, “Ford versus Ferrari” – energized and proud. “The Rise of Skywalker” sparked elation.
His feelings fade as he shuffles and I walk to the car. His thoughts slip away. “What was the name of that movie again?” he asks, each day. And I tell him, and we are happy.
* * *
The owls stand guard on the windowsill
with the angels
in my parents’ home.
Outside you might find
a broken thing –
things that are dried out, brown –
But also beginnings
and a dove hiding among pansies and the earliest narcissi.
My father sleeps
and when he wakes he thinks of my mother
and remembers that she is on her way somewhere –
on a camel’s back she is on her way back to herself.
He has found his gentleness
while I continue to find my
On the empty stairs in the parking lot garage I think –
I pity the person who would try to hurt me.
* * *
* * *