Posted 8:43 AM by melanie

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Daddy (for your grandson)

The last time
I saw you or touched you
was in 1985
It was on my birthday.


You stood in the front yard
in your overalls
working on my car
screwdriver in your hand
red grease rag tucked in your
back pocket.
The autumn sun
winked a lazy afternoon eye
through a hickory nut tree's
branches
lighting your face
for a moment
making you squint
and wipe your brow
with the oily rag.
You wished me Happy Birthday.
I kissed your grease-smudged face.
I cranked my car, two sputs then vroom
you smiled at the engine.
I waved to you
standing there, lonely with the pavement
and I was gone.

The last time I talked to you
was on the phone
the day before
Thanksgiving.
I told you I couldn't come home.
You offered to fly me back.
I refused
I said I was busy.
I said I had to work.
I was lying to you.
The next day
at lunch
I sat crossed legged
my hair wet, in my bathrobe
on my bare wood apartment floor
eating a cold turkey sandwich
and drinking warm corona beer
without lime.
I should have been
with you.
I called the bus station
to ask about tickets
and plan my trip home for Christmas.

December 12, 1985
I made it home
for your funeral
and now you are
the center of my attention
laid out, like a conversation piece,
everyone says, you look good
to them you are a
coffee table book
open to the last page.
I walk out
to the store down the street
to buy a bottle of wine
and I can still smell your roses
two blocks away.

One week later
My mother is crying
next to me in bed
all night, she won't stop
I am on my left side, facing her
propped up on one elbow
I brush back her hair from her face with
the palm of my right hand
and my fingertips trace the lines on her forehead.
It is raining outside
for the first time
since we buried you.
Cold December
taps on the windowpane.
She is worried about you
out there, in the rain.
She wants to bring you a jacket
she thinks
you are getting wet.
I hold her tight, swaying back and forth
until she quiets.

Two years later
my first son is born,
September 1987.
I name him after you.

He is 3 months old tonight.
I wrap him like a Christmas present
in a soft blue blanket
tucking the corners around his legs
folding it, carefully,
over the back of his head.
He cries and screams
He is a colicky baby, tonight.
I cradle him and walk across the room
I sit in a rocking chair
and hold his head to my chest
rocking slowly.
I repeat your name over and over
until he falls asleep.

Posted 6:59 AM by melanie

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I wake up in the middle of the night
With the dumb foggy room realization
That someone suffered
The only dull ache comfort
Other than pillow and blanket
Is that
Thank god it wasn’t me
Ruthless prayer
Like a warm wind on a humid day
I can’t cry out or seek forgiveness for what
I didn’t do
Survivor guilt
Apparently my shoot opened
I landed here

When I finally wake at 6 am
and make coffee

I am surrounded by the lush green pine
Hard bark stretch to the sky
soft pink champagne and orange juice trees
Litter my roadway with fluff
Skies thick with clouds hang heavy
Interspersed with bright patches of sunlight
Steam rises from leaves and frogs
and snakes sunning on sharp jagged gray slate rocks on water’s edge

Every morning my first thoughts are the night before
Wakeful moments never to be dreams
startled to eyes opening
Twilight nightmares
Other people's pain
Problems with no solutions
No logic to suffering or dying
Or how to prevent what has already occurred
Tears can’t soothe wounds on their corpses
My half wakeful mind doesn’t know this
I can’t stop last minutes or make it any better
I spend a lifetime of nights
Seeking redemption for something
That I didn’t do
Grateful for every sunrise
I smile at every blade of grass wet with dew
Blackberry bushes ripening twenty feet from my door
On soft June morning
Tiny rabbits run ahead on deer trails
I bury my conscience day in sight, sound, smell and taste
Children playing in the woods
Water splashing on creek bed
We do things like drink strawberry margarita
Boil shrimp in lime and talk about the weather.

Hedonism is the order of every day
Shallow comforts skin thick
no salty tears
to rub in wounds as long as the sun is shinning

I am happy to be alive and have shelter
And eyesight and hearing and legs
Very lucky and knowing it.
Not understanding why
I was blessed.