for an uncle
Never mind sometimes I never answer you.
I’m not obliged, even now to respond
drop my pen when I hear a foot-fall
on the step; or a drum upon – like it was
a mouse – the tablecloth: ladies, gentlemen,
some discreet caller. When I got home
after 4 years in the snow, my little sister
didn’t know me – ran as a child might run
from a vagabond stealing across country;
& my sons now won’t talk to me! My daughter
brings soup, fusses about the kitchen, suffers
excessively, complains about the cold, the heat…
the bleating sheep, the chicken shit; & fears
the howling wolves nightly.
- Anger, rabies.