In his hospital jonnie,
he ,the engineer, agitated, calls for his saw.
We, the children, in the fully oxygenated world,
comprehend the words but not the meaning.
Is there a tree he needs felled?
Bushy eyebrows converge at
our lack of learning
he leans toward us and
again mouths, “ a saw, a saw…” and
I think he may offer his kingdom had we one.
We lean ears toward his lips to
gain the sound that is no sound
that which is behind each word
that analog of imitated symbol
learned from birth now leaving
alone in that gentle good night
disbelief, betrayal blush his face
frustration, not fury his thoughts.
Finally body takes over where mind is mute and
like twin loggers, his fingers dance in rhythm,
an invisible string of floss…
