Thursday, May 31, 2012


memory



it might have been disappointment that
gave flight
to that lava hot burner
across that cold  kitchen 

or anger 

but it was my mother
who stood her ground
by the stove
handle in hand
as the nearly molten discus crash landed
short of its mark
at my father’s unsure feet 

its circle brand smoking itself
into worn linoleum
acrid uncertainty
hanging in the air 

a half century later
though the house may be cinders
caved into its foundation
the taste of burnt linseed oil
smoldering cork
and an uncertain future 

still remain 

Barry DeCarli
May 31, 2012
©2012 Barry DeCarli




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