A poem for my father on his 70th birthday.

Voyage


1.

"Frogwood," you'd say
as the frothing trees zipped by -
spring harbingers, improbable as my conception,
each bloom an Easter crucifix.
The grey velvet seat cradled me,
curls-in-the-middle-of-my-

forehead still warm
from the iron,
a little goose
taking a gander:
the perfect creases in your slacks,
jingle of change like a music box
you carried with you.
Our birthdays were approaching -
I could tell from the way the azaleas
ruptured into flame.
My 28 a cringing synesthetic stoplight red, but
yours: cool blue lucky 13, ever
the prime of your life.
"Beatselt," you said.


2.

Clutch and lean:
it's what we did
hugging mountain roads
through riot summer green.
I hooked my thumbs in
your beltloops,
sucked in the secret
scent of sweat and leather,
sang into the windthrill
roaring through my visor
- could you hear me? I both
hoped and feared you would -
clung to you. watched
your shoulders
concentrate.
Adolesced -
contempleted my death
a thousand times,
and never yours.


3.

Once we took a twilight train
through the snow.
You let me sit next to a boy
I liked.
Halfway along,
the lights in the car flickered out.
You sat alone
and let me be
and let me feel just
fine.


4.

I forgot until yesterday
that you had a pet sailboat.
You kept it in the garage
like a turtle in a shoebox;
I crouched in its musty canvas sails
evading nightmare marauders.
But why did we never
take it out to sea?
When I finally set
sail around the world,
you can come
and we can take turns playing
captain and first mate.


5.

At the bottom of the driveway where
I once went careening down
in my four-wheeled bouncy seat
mad with wild delight,
and where you bled
and broke three ribs under the weight
of your bike -
I lie like a little corpse
in a white nightgown,
Ophelia drifting in a river
of stars.
Orion whispers navigational secrets,
takes aim at the cheshire moon.
It is a long way back
to the warm-lit kitchen
where you are pouring my cereal
and waiting
for me to deliver
news of the world.



- Kate Croft