Poem: I Used To Go To Church Essay, Research Paper

I Used to Go to Church

When my doctors thought

I was dying

I saw my father

slumped over

in a painted chair

in 6 A.M. sunlight

wearing faded paisley

boxer shorts

Before I was sure

if I should call

out to him

he got up

& moved through the room

looking at everything

picking up photographs

of my friends

cupping the mug

I’d used for tea

His hands ran

along the edge

of the dining table

as if the objects

he touched

could tell him

the few things

he wanted to know

about my life

My old man

opened a window

& the wind rushed in

bringing birds

Pigeons perched

on his outstretched arms

& on his head

Each one cooed

a single note

but the sounds mingled

together

like a chorale

of bell ringers

& my father

he did nothing

to stop it

Bibliography

I made it myself