Memorial
As soon as I heard the news,I knew what I would do:
I would seek for sanctuary
in the places my father knew.
I would enter into the old tool shed,
and take down his tackle box.
I'd swing open the lid and waft that
sweet familiar scent into the air,
the way he always had.
With trembling hands I'd lay
those implements out before me.
Each piece I'd lift to catch the light
just so, and mouth their names:
Culprit Worm and Beetle-Spin.
Jitterbug, Rapala, Eagle Claw.
And something would change
before my eyes, and everything
at once would be so real.
And I would remember.
2 November, 2007
The Garden