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Friday, September 27, 2013


Home was that hallmark store invitation
you built from sunrise
that Fall night lantern that swayed in the wind
the brook that ran down between our houses
after a late March rain
the skating rink that gleamed from the garage light
that melancholy state
my father never grew out of
staring at the boat
while seeing resurrected German corpses
the late night call of grandpa dying
the tears of his lost brother, John
Bob, the eminent banker
always smiling
the golden era
ripe then
sunk like metal rays
beneath the bomb shelter
the sun twisted in lilacs
gave false blood to the mums
the mustard horizon
a drum silhouette
to a harboring beat
of father's who bore sons to Vietnam
the world I captured
before slowly venturing
to the city bus
then the town then the metropolis
within the corridors of my home state
one needs not to venture too far out
before the therometer hastens
where I look out of a bay window
and wonder if my dreams
can be captured
or I remain inside on oxygen
with my mother
who lay dying.

jdh 9/28/13

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