The McKinley Review Magazine

Homestead 

By: Gary Glauber | Posted on: August 2018 

Within dusky shadows,

besieged by his voice

still inside your head,

you try to hide.

Books with lessons

cascade like waterfalls,

those scarred hands

still punctuating stories

as if restless gestures

could compel listeners

to rapt attention,

motion as magnet.

His reassuring baritone

silenced now forever,

that aural kiss of certitude

clear as corner office glass.

Residue of memory lingers:

that favorite chair’s leather

touched with impression

as if he only just got up.

Still holding tiny hand

inside insulated mittens,

guiding you across intersection

like sun in afternoon sky.

Remembering exhausts you:

days, weeks, years

accrued with no interest,

now suddenly gone into

empty bottle’s endless night

of silent refrain. You crack a window,

stare into darkness, wait for eternity

to surrender a clue.

 

Gary Glauber is a poet, fiction writer, teacher, and former music journalist. His works have received multiple Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominations. He champions the underdog to the melodic rhythms of obscure power pop. His two collections, Small Consolations (Aldrich Press) and Worth the Candle (Five Oaks

Press), and a chapbook, Memory Marries Desire (Finishing Line Press), are available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and directly from the publishers.