Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Sy Roth- A Poem


Son stopped by yesterday eve,
on his way to somewhere.
I hosted him to a party of
empty verbiage sung in a void.
Fatherly duty swept away in clacking silences,
he met his obligations with curt nods.

Wonder in his eyes pinged off the sides of our canyons.
The ending came on muffled feet
sprung from a gaseous fumeral.
Eyes turned to the ticking clock
bells of somewhere striking an hour.

He shuffled to the front door
into the darkness of my night.
Form vanished like a thought
shouted to the silence of his absence.

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