RUN MY FINGER.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A FATHER TALKS TO HIS DEAD SON.

Submitted: May 19, 2014

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Submitted: May 19, 2014

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Ole-
I want to run
my finger

along the outline
of your jaw.
I was there

when they broke it
years before.
I was there as it mended-

jaw framed, wired,
Stoic, you did not complain,
wrapped up and put away

deep within, the pain.
Now-
Ole, I grieve,

am grieving;
then, as the jaw mended,
I crept down the stairs

to your bed to see
if you were well
and still breathing.


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