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Poem: For My Father

Laurie James


My father said everything

when he whistled his way home

in the dust of a square evening,

that held the trail of a shooting star 

in the violet sky.

A Peter Pan in work boots, 

his cap set cocked-back,

his one-seeing eye tangoing 

to the tune of “It’s Only Make Believe, I Love You”

above the crunch of gravel underfoot.

He should have moved to the Crazy Mountains

worn a bowler

learned to play the viola 

Instead, he drew the bow of a welder

built a world between cinderblock walls

a Marilyn Monroe calendar 

above the utility sink.

“Lolly”, he said, “grab that big wrench over there

and hand it to me. “ and I did, 

feeling as important 

as anything I’d ever be.

© Laurie James 2014


Laurie James

Born in a Montana blizzard to a one-eyed man and a one-thumbed woman, Laurie now writes poetry in Salida, Colorado where she has lived since 1971.  Two years ago she retired from the daily grind at the local newspaper and now, just looks out the window at a struggling, lone Jack Pine and the wide open sky.   She has performed poetry with the Salida based poetry troupe, "River City Nomads" for 10 years.  A chapbook is in the works, hopefully to be in print in 2014.

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