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Dr Paul's Poetry Pages Entangled Bank , Poetry Pages, Previous Page, Next Page
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Going over Niagara (For my Father).Niagara. Going over and looking down There is no snow and this could be Kansas With her fields just greening lightly As winter ends and falls as sudden ice. Going over Niagara and there the Finger Lakes reach Splay pawed from the great lake, Marshes at their south ends waiting Silently for their red wings. These lakes deep but shallowing imprints Of ten thousand year retreat of the ice, The last days of big mammals pierced with flint Sinews harvested and fats rendered. Going over Niagara comes to mind Riding with Sylvia to the hospital To see you again and I say to her That all three of us have each in our own way Your independence as you pushed and folded Our landscapes, filled our lakes with water Cold, clear to drain into beaver filled valleys And sleeping butter cupped marshes. This comes to mind as you look at Sylvia, Point to ne and whisper to her: Who is this, is this Chris (A female cousin)? And the world spins around this confusion. Our eyes stray to the monitor: Heart rate 83, blood pressure 110/65. The Doctors did warn us of possible brain damage. Niagara comes to mind again, Talking with my sister and reassuring each other: He's had a rough day. Just off the ventilator. Confused by the Medications. But there is that thought of he never knew me well anyway. Or maybe he has gone right to the point Of my own arrogance that I could see all myself Like a model landscape seen from a model plane. And the marshes at the end of the lakes come to mind, That plane crashed and I see my own landscape So alien and opening up, Its rivers meandering at the behest for beavers Focusing alien sight on their dams here and now. So how could you know who I am in my own landscape Filling of red wings and their late winter songs? I look out and the last snow has started gently to fall- Your snow on my marshes. |
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