"I could never have slept
with him," you say
from three thousand miles.
"I'm not
criticizing but you
must have
hated yourself
to do it."
How can I tell her
what her father once was:
gifted, elegant,
pale brown skin,
that occasional smile.
I walked past him
through swinging doors
carrying heavy trays,
princess of faculty dining.
I remembered
who took coffee
with milk
and who drank tea;
he was prince of all the rest,
tables of students,
the waiters he commanded
with a nod.
He sat aloof but
in control.
You tell me, "He's bald
and old and ugly
of character.
He was gone before he went."
I want to
persuade you he was once
so fascinating
I never imagined
he'd even
talk to me.
from "The Real Story," a chapbook, www.finishinglinepress.com
A snapshot in someone's life told through the power of poetry. Many thanks for such rich offering. My favourite lines were:
ReplyDelete'I walked past him
through swinging doors
carrying heavy trays,
princess of faculty dining.
I remembered
who took coffee
with milk
and who drank tea;
he was prince of all the rest'
There are four lines between princess and prince. I kept repeating them back to me, the rhythm is incredible.
Greetings from London.
Dear Melissa
ReplyDeleteOnce again I'm struck by the candor and honesty between you and your daughter - hers to you and yours to her. You seem to give each other a lot of room, which makes for rich conversation.
It is easy to see you as the princess, walking past him through swinging doors. Walking to him, too.
This is a very poignant piece. Thank you for sharing it with us.
Love
Claire
"i never imagined he'd even talk to me"...
ReplyDeleteyes; the reader sees that he would talk, of course...to her who sees him as a prince.
That's a lovely poem!
ReplyDeleteWhat a fantastic poem, Melissa, full of the resonance of first meetings, of chance encounters, of non-spoken communications, of aging and the passage of time.
ReplyDelete