Another poem (or what’s this writing coming to?)

May 2, 2007

In this dream

in memory of David Citino, poet, mentor and friend

You can be alive and
not and all the while

be pleased and smile
at me in the car.

Seems odd I can’t recall
your words, yours of anyone’s

I should remember, yet
silence was just right then,

the air between us
ripe and sweet and full

of a father’s secret pride
in me (and why, I wish

I knew), but your gift —
a triple rosary

so very un-Catholic —
more a garland really,

of wooden flowers,
bestowed on me,

and as I dip my head
toward the driver’s side,

you place them around
my neck like a blessing.


Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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

%d bloggers like this: