domingo, 2 de novembro de 2008

my dad & sardines

my dad & sardines
American Poetry Review, The, Jan/Feb 2004 by Derricotte, Toi

my dad's going to give me a self
I've made an altar called
"the altar for healing the father & child,"
& asked him what I could do
for him so he would
do nice for me. he said I should stop
saying bad things about him &, since
I've said just about everything bad
I can think of &, since . . . well,
no, I change my
mind, I can't promise
him that, but even healing is
negotiable, so, if he's in
heaven, or trying
to get in, it wouldn't hurt
to be in touch. the first thing I want is to be able to
enjoy the little things again-for example, to stop peeling

down the list of things I
have to do &
enjoy this poem, enjoy thinking about how, scouring
the cupboards, I found a
can of sardines that
must be five
years old &, since I was home after a long
trip & since it was I A.M. & I hadn't eaten
dinner & since there was no other
protein in the house, I cranked it open &
remembered that
my dad loved
sardines-right before bed-with
onions & mustard. I can't get into my
dad's old heart, but I remember that look on his
face when he would load mustard on a saltine, lay a little
fish on top, & top it with a juicy slice
of onion, then he'd look up at me from his soiled
fingers with one eyebrow
raised, a rakish
grin that said-all
for me!-as if he was getting away
with murder.
Copyright World Poetry, Incorporated Jan/Feb 2004
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved

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