poetry

Dad—

/ Elizabeth Gaucher / Leave a comment

BY LIZABETH YANDEL

Not all of this poem resonates with me; it is personal. And yet this last bit feels like something most of us know. Happy Fathers Day to all who celebrate, and to all who pause and remember.

We played catch in the yard
some evenings after work.
Worried I’d fuck it up, I tore
a piece of myself off each time
& threw it back as hard as I could.
I know now you were doing it
too: pulling off pieces of you
& tossing them to me, yelling when
I missed & a chunk of yourself
went skidding into the bushes.
One time a ball split at the seam
midair & landed splayed open,
its insides wound tight & messy
so that, when I pulled the string,
I couldn’t find a beginning or an end.

Lopaz | a sonnet for my grandfather

/ Elizabeth Gaucher / 2 Comments

Lopaz

And then the Lamb invited me to look,

and I beheld a faithful flowing steed

with one glorious hoof atop the Book

my life faithfully kept in word and deed.

My ears perceived a gentle rising call

emitted from a distant room beyond

my sight, and all those lost to me were tall

and gathered locked in bright eyes wet and strong.

In life I rode in boughs the wooden frame

painted to color life but pulseless ran

amidst the kingdoms, rivers, stones, by name

I called them mine; yet now I rein my plan.

Gesturing to the stable my mother

stands before my sisters and my brothers.

I wrote this in honor of my grandfather, H. H. Sims. He is transitioning from this life to the next, the last of 10 children raised in Fayette County, West Virginia. Lopaz is the name they gave their rocking horse; he’s really more of a gliding horse. He has served many children through the generations!