MY DAD
Did you see him pull in
a Kahawai, hand over hand?
standing on southern
rocks
spray, wind, cold
an oilskin parka
shining eyes
"A good one to
grill" he told us
proudly slitting from
tail to rib
with his knife
Did you see him making
rabbit finger shadows?
in the tent at night
two poles, a vee of
orange
"No room for kids"
he told us
banished to the tin
trailer
or to sleep under the
stars
satellite tracking
Did you see him
polishing boots?
first scrape off the
mud
drying them in front of
the Juno
brushes and cloths
spit and polish
"Every Sunday,
you're judged by your shoes" he told us
Did you see him
whittling with his pocket knife?
slivers of wood
poked into the
Thermette
smoke everywhere
no matter where you sit
Did you see him
tightening my seatbelt?
while I sat
nervous and excited
wedged into the
fibreglass glider body
soon to be aloft in the
quiet wind
cars, sheep and grass
below
wheeling above the
world
like a dream
Did you see him sitting
by the fire in a rocking chair?
us with our hair wet
Dickens and towels
Oliver Twist, Treasure
Island
all beloved
"just five more
minutes before it's bedtime" he warned
yet caught in the story
we eke that out to
another half hour
Did you see my Dad?
