By: John Cruze
my father picked over
the apples and picked
the most picked over
part of his life-long salty
tilt into the wind
he wanted us to believe
we imagined this part of him
conjured it
like the constellations
he brought to life
but for us
whatever it was
something rubbed off
on the other apples
something forlorn
not martyrdom
not self-righteousness.
not pride
his pride came into view rarely
almost against his will
when he gave voice
to certain places in the world
he’d been privileged to absorb
through his Navy uniform
ports of call he revisited
and romanced on his library card
he crossed my mind this morning
as I left for work
in the dark
as he had
I took an overripe banana
left the others for the dreamers
***
John Cruze’s work has appeared in WORDS (Thomas More College), For A Better World – poetry and art dedicated to themes of peace and justice and Express Cincinnati. He is a hiker, poet, photographer, mediator, teacher, trainer and proud member of the Greater Cincinnati Writers League whose members have midwifed much of his poetry.