photography by T. Matilsky
An Hour or So in the Park

Last night I dreamt I was dying,
some disease where I’d start to die
and then stop for a day or two,
like engines trying to turn over,
pumps losing their prime–
doesn’t it work like that?
I didn’t tell the kids,
although my wife–melancholic, quiet–
she was there.
This morning I listened to parts of Verdi’s
Requiem and Brahms’ Requiem;
if I have a chance, Mozart’s
Requiem is tomorrow.

Late afternoon, I’m with the kids in the park.
The ducks float by, barely paddling;
we tire of each other right away.
My kids are off over there–
basketball, swings, sweats–
and I’m lying on the grass
listening to Shostakovitch on earphones:
sometimes mathematics, almost tears.
An hour or so in the park
and it’s all so breezy, so quietly restless.
Here in our town we are breathing into summer,
and the sun goes down,
goes down a little later every day.



©2005 by John Eivaz



previous poem john's contents next poem