Father's Day 2007

Father's Day 2007


In summer,
he taught me to draw,
right-hand, left-hand,
colored pencil labyrinths
to balance the world.
He could sit so still,
spine perfectly aligned,
squirrels ate from his hands,
their furry fingers
making mudras with crumbs.

You cannot get lost
in a labyrinth,
in to the center and out.
But Alzheimer tangles
build a maze
of high, unscaleable walls.

In summer,
the squirrels have forgotten
all the winter places.
They do not come to me,
my stars are not aligned.
I give them a poor communion,
tiny cairns of crackers and sourdough,
a final benediction.