Mother
Tonight when it rained,
I thought, "mother, its raining"
And I wanted to call you.
I loved the rain,
And I think its impetuousness
Moved even you,
My lost, lonely, mother
Mother, you took me
On little trips into your sadness,
And bought me sweets;
You did not make me feel
I owed you anything
And for that I love you,
My gentle, sad, mother
2014
My dad saw the Angels
My dad spoke French
Once, in Paris.
A man asked him the time,
And he answered, correctly.
So often he repeated that story.
My dad played the piano
Occasionally, in the back room.
Always the same tune,
Fingered mechanically, haltingly.
We laughed at his clumsy fingering.
My dad saw the Angels
Coming, through the ceiling.
The nursing home called me,
But I was busy with the family.
I never spoke to him again.
2018
