On my father
In the mirror
Standing behind me
Tying my tie…
Funny to be learning this ritual now,
Getting the trick of it, how the longer end
Wraps double, loops through an opening
The shorter end tightens.
He has this down pretty well,
Though not much of a tie man himself,
Only on special occasions, only in the way
An extremely unspoken bond pulls at us,
The knot holding while not being a noose.
Father, despite years of many small strung-
Together words, despite times unavailable
& privacy gestures freeze, there’s certainly
A larger time, a given, no photo has ever cramped
For we weren’t snatching at closeness then.
It lived on its own with the knowledge
We could not possibly fail
In our strange love territory.
It is this knot my eyes find in this mirror
Tying us in the trusted distance
Locked finger firm.
Stephen Mead is a creatively-frustrated secretary who works for a very nice university in New York. Much can be learned of his multi-media work (done outside the day job), by placing his name in any search engine. His latest Amazon release is entitled Our Spirit Life, a poetry/art meditation of family heritage and the evanescence of time.