“The Blue Living Room,” oil on canvas, by Carl Ludwig Jessen, 1912.
My father puts the milk carton
on the kitchen table. Declares, She bought it—
before. The two glasses tremble. I know worship
and gratitude. I know love, taught by tender example
and backs of hands, thrift.
And that I am a spoiled child at sixty
because, until three days ago, both my parents
were alive, and as long as both your parents live, old
as you get, you are not an adult.
I do the math: she has been gone exactly seventy-three hours.
The stamp on the carton warns the milk expired five days ago.
The pulmonologist alerted me it was a matter of hours.
And they were married two months shy of sixty-five years.
On special occasions, she’d put out fresh melon, cubed
and stuck with frilly toothpicks. He half fills both glasses
to make our toast, take our communion,
our poison. I know that the Bible says I owe. That
his word is law in this house. That in one night a wounded man
can wander a lifetime in a 600 foot apartment.
And how to fake swallow, then spit it out.
Michael Mark is a hospice volunteer and long distance walker. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Alaska Quarterly Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Rattle, The New York Times, The Sun, and elsewhere. His poetry has been nominated for three Pushcart Prizes and the Best of the Net.
What a beautiful and insightful poem! Love, loss, memory, family responsibilities and obligations … grounded in the familiar and expressed through visceral experiences of passing time, and yet surprising and revelatory!
Such a powerful poem! Love the image of the melon balls and the communion of father and son–both bitter and sweet.
I love how this poem uses few words to say so much. Every time I read it, I’m seeing something new. Really wonderful poem.
Marvelously insightful poem ground in a nostalgic loneliness and suffocation that seems to flow through it.
Exquisite! Michael Mark nails it, every time.
our communion. our poison–really fine
A poem appealing directly to my heart,
A bridge over forty years of wasted time,
A memory of long time past!
A table laid out to perfection,
Featuring a delectable dish of chicken,
Rare white wine and a carton of milk,
After the golf course visit and pizza in Long Island
Following a painful year of learning and frolicking on campus
Before saying good bye.
Now is the time of reminiscence, the time for remebrance,
A time to say “thank you” and “Fare Well”
To a lovely lady who birthed and nourished
A poet of substance, A man of vision and family fan!
Signed: a voice from the past and latter day poet.