Chariots around the corner
Swing low
Swing high
Sweet Chariots
White horses
Taking you home
Taught me the song
as a tiny curled haired
little girl essed into
your side on the couch
where we listened
to music so loud
the the apartment
walls shifted
your paintings
and my heart trembled
Swing Low
Swing High
I sung - woman
now, kneeling
on your bed fingers
intertwined with yours
No chariots
cornered the
bedsheets on
that hot august day
You on high
white pillows
gentle sighs
of sweet oxygen
our metronome
You, my still strong
raven haired father.
I never felt the bones
that sent the
others skittering
from the room
only muscle
and brawn and
beauty still yesterday
as all fell softly silent
hours melting you in morphine
mist as you lifted your arms
and to the remembered
violin concerto of
my tiniest girlhood
you began to conduct yourself
with eyes closed, a satiated smile glowing
you raised up, turned up your head in ecstasy
and on a long apricot scented sigh - stepped
Elsewhere
I felt your chest and three final crisp crescendoed thumps
Concerto concluded.
Goodbye,
Daddy
Goodbye.
