Three Poems|Ann Privateer
They Say
The eyes are the windows
Of the soul, my father’s sky blues
Captivated me to look and listen
My grandfather’s grey blue eyes
Taught me to strike the match
When he lit his pipe
And help fill his wagon with beer bottles
My son’s laughing blue eyes keep happy
Even in the dimmest light
And though two are gone now
I look up and the sky winks at me
Through the window of their souls.
My Father
Had a heart attack
One night, I was 16
Ran across the street
Bare foot to fetch
Our doctor neighbor
I can still feel
The gravel, it was
Too late, an ambulance
Came and took away
His body. For one year
Mother kept his work
Clothes on the hook
In their closet where he
Hung them. Sometimes
I’d go in that closet
And hug his clothes
Breath his scent
And cry.
Mona Lisa
didn’t wear earrings
or tease her hair. Why do
we gather at the Louvre
for a photo op of her
while dust motes intersect
while rays of light pass
millions of irises as we
silver in stillness wrapped
in her beauty, we children
of winter’s absent hues
we children of forgotten kisses.
Photo by Eric TERRADE on Unsplash
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