Like Water on the Brain
For my grandfather, Eugene Hallan, 1921-2006
I was standing in the garden
when a drop of rain fell upon the back
of my neck, and a shiver shot down my spine.
And isn’t that the way our memories work?
Something jogs the senses-- a smell
or the ache for the familiar
touch of a loved one and the memory
of some event seems to fall from nowhere
into the wellsprings of the mind the way
the earthy scent of these geranium
blossoms bowing down to drink
from this dark pool forming in the mud,
which seem hardly blossoms at all
but the essence of green itself,
reminds me of a childhood trip
to Seattle to see my grandfather,
along whose home geraniums
grew in profusion, before Dementia
began to restrict the blood flow
to the realm of memory in his brain,
and oxygen tubes wormed their way
to his leaf-veined lungs the way this fallen
blossom has withered and gone gray
as a mind washed clean by darkness.
Here is a small selection of poems from my first book, American Spirit, available for preorder now for $12 plus $1.50 s&h at: http://finishinglinepress.com/NewReleasesandForthcomingTitles.htm The book will ship on August 5, 2011.
