Scurvy MAG

By Melissa A., Columbia, MO

     A picture of my father
was tucked inside the yellow
leaves of an old Bible
in my house. He leans
over a table clothed
in papers that might be important
and behind him the curtain is blowing into the room,

pushing his hair
into his eye and lifting up
the edges of his papers so
that the table peeks through.
His shirt is red and white and striped, like the flag,
or a pirate.
My father left our house
two days and three hours
and twenty-seven minutes
before I was born, and maybe
he will return two days and three hours and twenty-seven minutes
after I leave, but we’ll never
know, always missing each other
by that small margin of time.
It’s really just one
sentence in my biography,
if it were written, and it really wouldn’t matter except that damned, single sentence in my hypothetical biography has stolen away pages
and pages. Each day is a gem,
and each day that belongs
in that pocket of time
where my father and I barely
miss each other is a gem that
my father has stolen.
His shirt in the picture
between the pages of the Bible
is red and white striped,
like a pirate.

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This article has 2 comments.

i love this so much!

CaptainO said...
on Sep. 5 2008 at 7:56 pm
This is cool! I like the subject and you did a good job of describing, although I thought the depth of the specifics was a little strong in some areas. It doesn't appear that you're *trying* to capture that "pretentious" effect though. "hypothetical biography" is a great phrase, and I think it's one of my favorites, even though this piece is composed of great ones anyways! I would like to have seen more of a "flow", since some of the lines feel a bit fragment-y. I thought it was cool how your title isn't a word or phrase incorporated anywhere in the piece, and it didn't give away the whole meaning of the poem. I enjoyed reading this, so thanks for sharing!


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