Words are flowing out like
never before in this home
child runs the hallway
announcing every architecture
says let’s play piano or blocks
make a house turn on the light
up the stairs remembers
which room was Pop-Pop’s
now it is the room for her sleep
as we lullaby and story the day
she reminds herself and me
the stuffed animals on the shelf
were Pop-Pop’s favorite
she will keep the things
we already forget we pass on
and say them aloud again
Category: Poems
-
Pop-Pop Loves Owls
-
Firmament
Lately rather than wanting
to binge watch some TV show
at night when the child is asleep
my mind has been drifting
back to the past moments
I know must have happened
the insignificant stray threads
of day to day that no one
and everyone else experiences
the things that shuffle aside
to make room for what most
needs our random access
they must have happened
otherwise how would I be
here how would any of us
descendants of mothers
pitch a path upon the earth
but then we all must disappear
like so much forgotten weather
sometimes I think eternity
peeks through those moments
knowing we aren’t listening
at the time of occurrence
but if by chance we happen
to recollect our cells such
as they were such as we are
dispersed and then collected
and then dispersed someone
else sees in reverse knowing
us as we were going to be
a figment of no one’s memory
-
Best and Worst Feeling
Why is it both
the best feeling
and the worst
to see the look
of anguish if not
outright terror
on the face of
our child refusing
to be lullabied
to bed by mother
instead reaching out
to my arms in protest
only mollified when
molded into the shape
of my shoulders as
moments quieten
recounting the day
and whatever song
does not cause
a stretching neck
to say a certain no
until the sense
that whispering
the words back to bed
will be repeated
and I can let our child
down into the crib
resisting sullen sleep
until I leave the room
as mother downstairs
monitors our child
still in grainy video
fast if her figure is
identifiable at all
-
When the Day Is New
Hard to believe the child hasn’t grown
up some unimaginable leap
in the overnight hours
when we hear long before the alarm
we purposely set later to recover
from the week
a voice clear as the air enunciating
syllables reverberating through
strewn blankets
stuffed animals placed like an audience
the doors and walls no match
for those lungs
every word from start to finish of the song
almost personified by changing
out of sneakers
into street shoes out of zipper sweater
into sport jacket even in tune
the song itself
personifying everything we could feel
at this solitary moment that
then repeats
almost as if to say I’ll be back again
even as one day closes another
snappy new day begins
It’s such a good feeling to know you’re alive
-
A Circle Altered
I pulled our child away from running to the altar
during the supposedly solemn services of Maundy
Thursday and Good Friday but perhaps inspired
by the newly acquired aforementioned plastic eggs
besides the theological implications of unbridled
unpremeditated action displayed for the congregation
to witness at slow moments of the service a hymn
sung legato a call and response burdened by rote
our child ran to mother (the pastor) briefly before
breaking loose under the rail around and around
the circular altar as if running laps unlike the distance
she never seemed to tire only pause occasionally
glancing in my direction to know I was still there
betrayed by one small outburst of I SEE YOU
a peek a boo we still play I hope she never grows
out of and based upon our visits with Mister Rogers
who never passes up an opportunity to cover his face
and uncover again to let us know he is still there
our child paid no mind to the seated multitudes
she might have known were drawn to her activity
there is probably no such thing as pure unself-
consciousness but our child embodied the quality
creating a new liturgy of limbs in motion for the sake
of motion for when they rolled the stone away
was that not the ultimate game of peek a boo?
what is a circle for if not to find ourselves running
around occasionally pausing to admire a blossom
following the path encompassed by the center
we never quite approach except to take a wafer
prepared there for imbibing or as our child would
have it carrying out from the sanctuary with firmest
grip until finding the right moment to savor it
-
Out of Tomb
New holiday in life first time
experienced such that understanding why
pretend plastic eggs literally
carpeting the too soon for green grass
actually in hiding and there for picking
up with fingers into small basket
for the purpose of collection
hindered by lack of height and/or
fascination with shape or color or seams
taller children who carry as much
as they grasp drop eggs for our child
to find accomplished with some help
namely our fingers pointing in their
general adjacent to giant dandelion direction
Later car singing rear view mirror thumb
in mouth absorbing the day with bubbles
and stones and small soccer ball squeals
at the point of needing sleep through side A
of Godspell Off-Broadway Recording
that carried me through childhood first
theatre production witnessed when I was
almost twice child’s age now barely four
now forty years later how will I explain
daddy cannot make it through side A
without sympathetic sobbing at the sound
of soul vibrato intoning gratefulness
all good gifts around us are sent from heaven above
then thank you lord thank you lord for all your love
How then the feeling of remembering my
father’s fall almost one year ago this the first
year such that less understanding as time
runs out he would play the red cassette
in the car too loud probably to hear anything
else he said he loved listening to it to me
why do some moments feel new while others
seem always to have happened we offered
our child a new book at bedtime she kept
turning to the page where the children hunted
eggs she found each one as well as naming
everything in sight there a tree a birdhouse
a sheep a line of triangles around the farmhouse
everywhere grass everywhere something growing
-
Leap
The day that day began
with birthdays on TV
the novelty of teenagers
pushing eighty with candles
and cake in some back room
smiling for the camera
knowing time is a fiction
more than perhaps others
At night the call came that night
we went to the small room
for her things placing a cloth
over her face before walking
into the night staring at loss
shining back at us as stars
wherever spirit goes it is
carried by extinguished
This month has been six months
as the above now is eight years
my dad so still he smiled
we buried them together
my father and grandmother
at the oldest church we knew
keeping in the family structures
we hope to remain exist
We thought we would remember
we would remember only
every four years when they add
a day to keep the seasons in days
not even knowing what is today
we keep the score the same
-
Goodnight Shadows
Before she falls asleep she turns
back to objects within her grasp
meaning sight meaning saying
goodnight to the plates the cups
the peanut butter applesauce snacks
goodnight to the stairs to the room
where her books live in her fingertips
flipping pages faster than she or anyone can
read them meaning she looks for patterns
she looks for fireplaces lighting
the dark room the mittens the light
in the toy house she waits for more song
in the rocking chair at night she lifts
her head to sing along when your heart
is full of love spelling friend the alphabet
meaning special she leans back to see
the lines of streetlight through the blinds
she says goodnight shadows meaning
the reflections have a life she cannot miss
wishing a safe passage to the other side
guiding safely through the night meaning
the lights in the mind relating echoes
of life in the day however passing the dark
winter having arrived the light coming back
the snow raining down in the dawn
we thought we would never see it as such
the years without the glow in the heart
you cannot see even as they arrive
meaning we will see them again arise
meaning the light has no end you will see
again when there is nothing but light
goodnight shadows it’s time to say goodnight
-
Umbrella
The child has begun shouting
out when she recognizes
a word belongs to an object
she knows as if
her whole being was in service
to the articulation of
the thingness of the world
here—an umbrella
sometimes in picture form
on the side of a block
sometimes a walk
reveals them on porches
withdrawn into a shape
that shelters nothing
from no one no need
at the moment to cover
everything underneath
still she brings them
to our attention
her vocal cords opening
up the skeleton within
until our skin reveals
the circle we were always
going to be born into
on an ordinary stroll
through the woods
beside our home
just within sight
umbrella
umbrella
umbrella
-
Choked Up
Hard not to think of calling you
even far too late into the night
to commiserate an entire season
as leaves strewn upon a path
knowing neither of us know
quite what went wrong in the end
thankful you were there on the other
end of the line when they won
fifteen years ago now I have
to do the math you were 96
long past the point of saying
your longevity was down to
Faith Family and Phillies
you saw that team slowly then
quickly disintegrate too I remember
days after you died I watched
the first spring training game
in a fluorescent green haze myself
sick at the thought of mass death
no idea what became of that season
I could look it up but have no
appetite for that now I am
thinking of you marveling at
seeing phillies.com on the world
wide web for the first time
where you are now the whiz kids
must be rounding the bases
while I sit in the orange darkness
closing all my apps and waiting
for pitchers and catchers to report
Joshua Keiter 