Posted in Rituals

Off Duty

Posted on by tq1695

We were both surprised
you’ll be lucky said the agent
“Christmas eve ….. must have been a cancellation.”

In the arrivals hall my mother was delighted
truth knew it was about yesterday, not today –
the birth of a granddaughter.

We swung by the hospital
sister –in – law and new neice – brand new
quiet
very quiet
only, hours old babies and first-time mothers.
And
a group of burly men
uncorporate, untailored, unairbrushed
panel beaters
builders
mechanics
working men,
skipping the Christmas booze up
to deliver soft new toys
to soft new arrivals.

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Author:

Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.