152nd Virtual Poetry Circle

Welcome to the 152nd Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s books suggested. Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2012 Fearless Poetry Reading Challenge because its simple; you only need to read 1 book of poetry. Please visit the stops on the 2012 National Poetry Month Blog Tour.

Today’s poem is from Elizabeth P. Glixman:

Laughing With My Father

My father’s body is dust. Yet darkness never comes.

Light sifts through memory. It is  bright.

I think of when he was here, vespers fly through my mind,

Not like praise but like a Halloween witch’s scream  
Scaring me to forget. Her crooked nose

Leads down the net path of dreams.  
I catch the light find how it weaves

Through the glass prism of wonderland.

No matter how I resist a different shape

My father is on my sleeping pillow

In my supermarket dreams. I pay

for lettuce at the cash register. He speaks. 
The world spins without vacation. He tells

Me to not forget the way his hair smelled  
Was full and dark, the way his Oldsmobile

hauled  newspapers, old mail, cancelled checks,

nose plugging sneakers and  Hershey Candy wrappers,

The way his stories were pliable as stale gum,

Only he would laugh at the boredom of this joke.

He tells me to not forget the way he hit the golf ball

No matter if it moved or not or flew

over the lake greens and disappeared. It didn’t matter,

Since he would always exist. Never be plucked.

The day is done. The darkness is full of a light that does not fade.

This dark is a gradation on the color chart of breathing

In a world that never can stop.

I watch late night TV in the blank hours

The shroud of gray filters out howling. I  rest 

in the dizziness of recall. The wind blows concisely outside

It writes the end chapter in our novel.

The crab apple trees in bloom.

On my pillow or in the supermarket isle he watches 
He sings yes, we have no bananas, a favorite song  
And tells me the darkness will not come, to go to bed  
Drink my milk, Don’t stay up late,

Be a good girl. Never sleep with boys.

Marry well.

What do you think?


  1. I second Jill’s comment. I really started feeling sad when the poet started listing all the things her father doesn’t want her to forget about him.

  2. Beth Hoffman says

    This is such a gentle yet powerful poem. I was fully invested upon reading the first line. I purely loved it.

  3. Sad for me, having lost my father, so I guess it’s effective! Especially love the last couple of lines.