I remember your face from that time
When mom told you to read me a bedtime story.
You came into my room
And took out Homer fearlessly
From the darkness of my bookshelf,
I wondered if you even cared that
I was scared.
But then, you sat next to me
And I saw
How different your face was from my impression.
You opened the book, and I was mesmerized
By the wrinkles that folded along your face,
Sketching your visage
Like the front cover of a used paperback novel-
Dried and discolored,
But you didn’t notice and
Continued flipping through the pages.
When you read
Your voice chilled me like the blank of your eyes,
Unmoving, I couldn’t see my reflection in them;
I wonder if you saw me
When you read about Odysseus’s reunion with Telemachus,
I hoped to see you smile
But no, you were afraid to crack the cement of your face,
And when you read about Priam’s plea
I wished for you to cry,
Because I wanted to ask you
Dad,
If your tears are salty, like mine.
Friday, August 21, 2009
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beautiful jesse...
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