Laces

- For my father

I remember holding
mommy’s hand, walking, pale
blue casket closer with each step.

Beyond the universe
of flowers surrounding you:
my science fair board,
problem, hypothesis, conclusion
removed; pictures pinned
in their places.

One was me- pointing
to an untied shoelace
face rouged
and strained, and you-
were pointing back to the same
prodigal lace, probably
saying For God’s sake, Megan,
you’re ten years old-tie it yourself!

And it’s funny that
out of all the pictures
on that recycled tribute board,
this is the one
I asked for, because you
eventually gave in, bent down,
slipped disc throbbing…
loop, loop, through, knot
bow, knot, bow- so tight
my toes turned purple.

Like you always did,
just like I hated,
just like I loved,
like how I couldn’t.

by Meg Lutz

Comments (1)

Can not be denied at all because reality makes no exceptions. Very and very beautiful poem shared.