Poem: The Tie
28 Months since the last tie
in front of morning’s mirror,
where the moving sun lit
the four corners of his being
above the window sill.
A shirt and tie, his wife’s dream that
could bring forth a butterfly
that flittered about this or that.
What would it be like
to see her again in
last year’s yellow summer dress?
There was in both
antsy anticipation.
For it was Saturday -
and there was church.
There was singing,
staunch people with good will and fellowship,
followed by fervent prayers
spurred by some vacant need
to bring on glorious highs and thrills.
There was the crafted sermon,
the munch of cracker flesh
followed by the drinking
of Christ’s chilled sweetened blood,
and then, always in awkward silence,
the clearing of some one’s throat
as the collection plate begins to float.
But oh the crash that comes
when that memory of those days is gone.
How to fix these empty days
until when?
Then, even as I go down the steps
out to the parking lot,
subtle, nerves on edge -
creeping in that gnawing feeling,
that need... to pray... again.
(2015)
