End of the mountains, the end of the line.
Dad used to say “the dead center of town.”
The old bones resting here have done their time.
Now they gaze out at the prairie, the fine
endless grasses wave back. A man could drown
in those mountains. He has to hold the line
until it breaks, then hold on longer. Twine
is good but faith is stronger. Dad’s short brown
hair gone white rests on his old head. His time
passes now in a chair, while movies shine
in his eyes. His ears swallow up loud sounds
like mountains. He still wants to tow the line
but his body refuses. There are times
in my dreams where his health has turned around
but the bones in his skin rest. There are signs
of love and hope in him still. The reclined
dead in this town smile from the earth, laid down
where the mountains rest. At the end of time
all the old bones here will jump into line.
This poem is part of my 30 Villanelles in 30 Days project that I’m doing for Tupelo Press‘ 30/30 Project. However, worrying that maybe readers there might be annoyed by the consistency of form, I decided to switch things up a bit. What’s on the Tupelo Press website for the photo you see at the top is a different form (a poem made up of 3 Shadorma stanzas plus a tag stanza), and I’m sharing the villanelle right here.
Please head over and read the other poem I wrote – plus of course check out the work of the incredible poets who are writing with me this month! If you decide to donate to the level that you’ll get a copy of the zine I’m going to make, maybe I’ll throw in all the poems and not just the Villanelles. Whatcha think?
Thank you, readers! I appreciate every one of you!
The Poetry Patio 