Death is not
the final word.
Without ears, my father still listens,
still shrugs his shoulders
whenever I ask a question he doesn't want to answer.
I stand at the
closet door, my hand on the knob,
my hip leaning against the frame and ask him
what does he think about the war in Iraq
and how does he feel about his oldest daughter
getting married to a man she met on the Internet.
Without eyes,
my father still looks around.
He sees what I am trying to do, sees that I
have grown less passive with his passing,
understands my need for answers only he can provide.
I imagine him
drawing a breath, sensing
his lungs once again filling with air, his thoughts ballooning.
Lisa is a poet and essayist living in Arizona. Some recent work can
either be found or is upcoming in: can we have our ball back,
Plum Ruby Review, Wicked Alice, Tryst, and others. My
first full length collection the sometimes girl was released in
February 2004 by Innercircle Publishing. Her second collection, a
chapbook entitled You Have A Lovely Heart, is scheduled
for imminent release from Little Poem Press. When not writing, she work
as a schematics specialist for a retail brokerage.
Magazine