Sunday, June 17, 2007

excision

it hurts me how readily the words come:

dad
dad's house
to see my father
dad will be here


my father


tidy the spare room
single sheets for a single bed
2 pillows
1 towel






i don't want it to be easy.



how is it possible so quickly to adapt?
to move from plural to singular?
we to me?
they to he?
a pair to alone?

suggesting at some level
(though I don't see where or how)
i know she's not returning


ellision excision
swift surgical
pain

the precision
of a moment

an extraction
completed, final, done.


now you see her
now you don't



My vocabulary has adapted
- healed -


but

i can't stop scratching at the scar

2 Comments:

Blogger Vintage to Victorian said...

Lettuce, I didn't feel I knew you sufficiently to add to the list of condolences but reading your poems today have touched me with their poignancy and I shall read them again.

I think it was the latest one about your dad - you'll know from my blog that I still have my mum, but we lost my dad nearly 34 years ago. With the parents reversed I felt what you feel in that poem.

9:47 AM  
Blogger Camplin said...

I like the pause in your work, it holds a lot of weight. Good uses of space to give your words more impact.

7:43 AM  

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