Friday, May 6, 2011

Vilanelle for a Dead Father

I dreamed of you again last night
sitting in your rage, old man
drunk and spoiling for a fight

gripping the bottle as if it might
escape the caging of your hand.
I dreamed of you again last night.

I'm fifty seven as I sit and write
these words, remembering how I ran
drunk and spoiling for a fight

away from you Alright., Alright.
I'm running still. Away. Unmanned,
I dreamed of you again at night

Sitting in the bar. Dim light
bathed you in amber, angry, damned
drunk and spoiling for a fight

and in this dream no hope, no flight
was possible. We stood. We stand.
I dreamed of you again tonight
drunk and spoiling for a fight.

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