appealing

The Maynard
Fall 2019

Robert Carr
0:00
 
 

Inherited Water View

I sit counting gold
from my father’s teeth.
What else am I to do?
He didn’t leave his glasses
or a pipe. How am I
to read or smoke
obituaries as I kindle
wood-stove coals?

Who decided winter
became an old man?
She flurries toward me
across the lake, scores ice
with blue finger fire.

There’s a hammer
in the garage, toolbox
he also left me. I will beat
his fillings into coin, engrave
words I didn’t speak,
sleep with his precious
metal under my pillow.