Vantage Point

[David Nelson Bradsher]

Vantage Point

My dad and I are frequently at odds
over the smallest things. His appetite,
the way I comb his near-transparent hair,
or struggle putting on his outerwear;
or how I rage at the unseemly gods
for placing him, and me, in such a plight.

He could, or should, be mad when you consider
what a stroke, or two, can do to those
who live an independent life before
they’re found unconscious on the bedroom floor.
I wish I was accepting, much less bitter,
that I could take the same approach he chose,

accepting disability with grace.
“It’s not so bad,” he says. The ladies find him
charming with his smile and easy laugh,
a far departure from his other half,
the middle son with the impassive face
who mans the chair and stands, like stone, behind him.

[mfwilkie]

Just back from Williamsburg and the mill. Wanted to think about plight for a bit.
I think if you take the focus of the rhyme/plight and maybe use short phrases in that line,
it would quell the only nit I hear.

Some thoughts to get your mind moving:

My dad and I are frequently at odds
over the smallest things. His appetite,
the way I comb his near-transparent hair,
or struggle putting on his outerwear;
or how/at times/sometimes I rage at the unseemly gods
for placing/robbing him, and/or me, in such a plight.
for causing him and me
to spar, to fight.
to lose the light
which causes him to balk and me to write.

Mags

[David Nelson Bradsher]

Thanks, Mags. I think fight may work, but I don't want to use write because poetry about writing poetry seems to raise the ire, or to alienate, many readers.

I'll think on it some.

[mfwilkie]

Oh, no it doesn't, mon ami.