This last day may
thirty first two thousand
six ten ten post
meridiem
seconds unknown

Ah, prometheus
no surprise to the end
kind generous sure
though with everyman
wart and blemish
giving me your hand
strong grip
just like a dad
always your best
not just any father
figure punished bearing
the worst even asking
why we argued
if after morphine
came the pine box
your head on a cold
metal table near death
tasting, (yes, sadly,
too much I did see)
lips tasting air,
hand fingering
bed cloth grasping
knowing this space
was so little
yet there was so much
if only sweet air sweet
sheet familiar
thin like your too cool
cool forehead
would once more lift up
the bow to carry
us above the seas.

Only this nothing more
and so little
a child again
much begun that average day
by another who left
you and mom alone
his broken skull
too soon after may
seventeen
nineteen hundred
eighteen after death
your eighty eight years
of life now gone.

Now ancient
caring not of you
but us the silent
broken forever grievers
preparing like you
the last day
our last breath to come.

And remembering-
always
crying of lost
flesh and blood
of your morning
eyeglass and newspaper
stock prices no longer
up or down or even
published
only a foolish idea
an early morning jaunt
to ponder before the sun.
A young man like
wooing
and waiting
for the next promise
of tomorrow

But wait, please
please dad hold
one last moment
listen
those stone laden fields
are not silent
flecked in granite and flag
they plaintively whisper
so many like you
come and gone
a sign a hope
we are blessed
never to be alone
always together
with you.

---

In homage to my dad, Bernie ‘Pappy’ Ureneck (Uryniak), age 88,
Always of Dorchester
Born May 17, 1918 Died May 31, 2006
With all my love, Joey