Above A Whisper

A previous version of this poem was published in Nervous Lethargy.

I walk on blades
Of grass around
My father’s grave

Avoiding sunken
Markers careful not
To wake the dead

I want to share news
About a great job
My own place to live

The love of a woman
Who finds me
Worthy of affection

But none of this
Has happened
And it’s getting late

I tell him about
Another mild
Chicago winter

And Vegas picking
The Cubs to win
The World Series

My voice breaks
Like mist
Above a whisper

As birds fly in V-formation
Over headstones
Fixed in solemn rows

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1 Comment

Filed under Poetry

One response to “Above A Whisper

  1. Tom Trebswether

    I miss my dad too.

    Like

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