Some Sort of Truth

By Dorothea Lasky b. 1978 Dorothea Lasky
When my dad first started to die
All my mom could remember
Was the time he kicked her out
After they first started dating
So that he could go play golf
It is the sort of thing we all remember
When we feel death upon us
I remember he died twice
And once in my dream
I just had to see him all nursed and swaddled as if he were sleeping
But he wasn’t sleeping
I stood in the white light of the nursing home bathroom
With the sun spilling everywhere on me
And tried to talk to him, but never, he’d never listen
People don’t always listen to you when they are dead
But that’s not sad
I get tired
And I don’t listen to one Goddamn thing you are saying
But that is because most of the time you bore me
And when I am finally asleep it is really nice just to dream
I have seen a lot of things in this life
But one thing I saw most readily
Was that despite his eternal heartbreak
And girlish silliness
Mike’s face was kind of sweet, a sweet wind
He is going to think it is weird that I put him in this poem
But I don’t think it is weird that I put him in this poem
 

Dorothea Lasky, "Some Sort of Truth" from Black Life. Copyright © 2010 by Dorthea Lasky.  Reprinted by permission of Wave Books.

Source: Black Life (Wave Books, 2010)

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Poet Dorothea Lasky b. 1978

POET’S REGION U.S., Mid-Atlantic

Subjects Living, Coming of Age, Death, Sorrow & Grieving, Relationships, Friends & Enemies, Family & Ancestors