Anger Management

April 24, 2010 at 6:30 pm Leave a comment

I click on the TV
flip the channels like pages
in a jumbled book
land on you like an old friend
or lover
you remind me of the man
I knew only as my father
he laughed uncomfortably
at Sandler’s humiliation
my father had a sense of humour
hidden behind sad eyes

I remember thinking
how feminine his mouth looked
not because he had luscious lips
or silky smooth skin
— he had neither —
but it contained echoes
of his mother
a memory imprinted in his skin

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Entry filed under: Poetry.

In praise of mediocrity Awakening

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