Oh My Father
The little child I am remembers harsh
cold, bleak February which wore him thin
as torn shoe soles in snow, walked to the rim
of winters spring polished as bright as March.
I shuck off dawn at dusk, divulge indiscreet
December, cold without snow or holly, fat
disappointments, rained on eager years that splat
in empty dirty dishes, long secrets
for me to wash. I too am one — father,
and son and ghost who seeks a tabernacle
among white hair turned into wire, ramshackles
and shriveling hope. I have learned what matters
The grand horizon beneath the setting sun
the ending days when we can count the sum
Of all our ways.
— Marcellus Leonard
Marcellus Leonard is a professor of English at the University of Illinois
at Springfield. He will perform his work on Saturday, Nov. 22, at 3 p.m., at
the Vachel Lindsay Home, 603 S. Fifth St. in Springfield. The program, part
of the Lindsay Association’s “Poets in the Parlor” series, is free to the public.
“People’s Poetry” accepts poetry submissions. Send yours to Books and Poetry
Editor Corrine Frisch c/o Illinois Times, P.O. Box 5256, Springfield, IL 62705,or
to caf1025@aol.com with “People’s Poetry”
in the subject line. (Please limits your submissions to poems of 14 lines or
less.)
This article appears in Nov 20-26, 2003.
