Only time could dull the pain ...


Bottom Fishing

Memories diffuse,
like sunbeams glint off a lake,
become phenomena, evade the tangible.
In unsteady light I see my father
rowing toward our favorite fishing cove,
the wavelets of our wake
real as that late August evening.

We bait our hooks, conversation
merely phatic communion/ I know he's cheating on Mom.
Words anchor heavy.
As my face turns into the wind
to dry tears without his seeing,
questions rise in my throat,
like a volcano about to erupt,
but I have no voice to ask them.

So we sit, dangle mono-filament
thoughts in dying twilight.
Father and son,
brooding statues of Buddha,
mute as bullhead on the bottom.




Poetry by Brian Oarr
Read 576 times
Written on 2009-04-27 at 03:11

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chuma okafor
Quite poignant...all the same nice work..
2009-04-28


Elle
The unspoken silence and all the hurt, pain, pent up emotion - As you say, only time can dull certain pains

Elle x
2009-04-27


Purple Phoenix
So much more in this text unspoken... Good to see you back. :-)
2009-04-27



Great text, and the image of thoughts brooding like mullheads on the bottom is so full of meaning and atmosphere. Very good.
2009-04-27