Dad's Magic
He drove us so far from town the street lamps changed from brilliant phosphorus to incandescent bulbs skirted by crinkled reflectors. Darkness gobbled the stars...
He filled the doorway,
surveyed the mess we’d made:
upended mattress,
clothes cast upon curtain rods,
my hand poised to throw a pillow at Gene.
Let’s go for a ride, was all he said and turned away.
I wondered if Gene thought the same as I did.
He’ll drive us somewhere far away
like a litter of kittens
and drop us off.
He drove us so far from town
The street lamps changed from brilliant phosphorus
To incandescent bulbs skirted by crinkled reflectors.
Darkness gobbled the stars until he stopped the car.
Hard blackness crystalized pinpoint lights
that outlined the smelter in a dot-to-dot picture.
Something crept toward us, high on the hill,
rumbled above us,
hissing,
a monster coming to eat small children.
Suddenly,
stars tumbled from its belly.
Glowing galaxies bounced down the hillside.
Carloads of golden starlight
melted from scarlet to sapphire
dissolved into clinker dust
that in daylight
glowers in a heap of slag.
Some time later,
I smelled the warm scent of his collar
as he carried me from the car
to the cool summer sheets of my bed.
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You can read more from Sue Cauhape on her page, “Ring Around the Basin”:
oh my but I so loved this! My distant memories of an emotionally distant father who died when I was 15 and he was but 43 are not so tender and beautiful. you were blessed, Sue.
Thank you, Tonya, for sharing this. I love this poem and the event it portrays. My father has inspired so many poems, which of course is a good way to preserve memories.