Our Days To Live

the heat was a jacket

to be worn on it’s own

heavy and coarse,

beading forehead 

moistening arm,

stepping from porch

onto ground crenulated

by dryness,

haze lifting off blacktop

cars silhouette shimmer,

already a dry clamor

at the throat that was not


another car appeared

a blue sedan tinted windows

Buick or some make,

kerbside waiting

pulled alongside,

“you getting in son”

at the controls was dad,

sixteen years had passed

since the thing we don’t

like to remember occured,

now as we did sometimes

drive out four miles,

river curved tight towards

the bridge,

rod and line cast,

under tree placed shade

and beer cold in the


we lingered in this

quiet place.

7 thoughts on “Our Days To Live

  1. You build tension and anticipation so well here with the description of the weather. I like that you don’t say what the “thing that happened” was, but the hidden emotion is deeply felt. Nice write.


  2. Excellent imagery of the divisions that can exist between parent and child and the quiet acceptence of things not forgotten – but accepted…


  3. What Brian said…but then the end of the piece feels hopeful, since dad and son linger in the quiet place with beer and fishing lines. Feels like a relief from both the oppressive heat and the oppressive tension between the two.


  4. interesting verse…nice build…the underlying heaviness of that moment you dont talk about is def the pinch point in this one…i like the thought of going out fishing and chumming but it all doesnt seem real when the elephant is standing right in the middle of it you know…


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