ALL HALLOWS’ EVE

          (for Helen)

 

I thought he was shorter in the sleeves 

but this tweed fits me like my own 

and has a soft hand 

like David’s on piano keys.

 

I’ve made a habit of dead men’s coats

but had to cut my father’s down

to size and wore it till the thread went

thin.  It died two years after him.

 

The tailor could not fit me

to my father, the better handyman

and reader of the wind and tide.

His clothes just kept me warm.

 

But I have hope for David’s cloth.

I’ll hear more Bach, choose Merlot

with greater care and better watch

the small things in the world.

 

Tonight the souls I’ve lost run loose

until I try them on again 

to play their tricks as children chase, 

palms out, across the blowing streets.

​

(The Sow’s Ear, 2014)