interior

He blinks his eyes
as if to change the channel

nothing changes

he is still surrounded by rubble
buildings tossed as if by
those malicious kids next door
lying broken like their
slaughtered toy soldiers

The end of a transmission line
sparks wildly in a puddle
beside a fallen shattered elm
then stops, steaming
bitter ozone stings his eyes
and he feels something warm and sticky
his hand is clutching Gerry’s
red and orange face
like his own
made up for the game

Will it be postponed?
Is it playing on perfect green turf
in the security of the UniDome™?
He lifts his remote and presses the buttons
but the Viera™ 60″ screen is gone.
He weeps, and sits waiting for the game
to resume.

[print_link]

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Dock

If you live on a small island
you need a boat and two docks:
one here and one for those
reluctant trips ashore.

For years our island dock
was a narrow nervous thread
of plywood on pipes.

Finally upper management
declared she was tired of
walking the plank to reach
the boat, or inversely,
the shore.

Consultations, planning sessions
by telephone and spiraling
protests later, a contract was awarded
and I commenced construction
of a huge L-shaped deck
over the water, and although
plans for the dock-end boutique
were shelved, it was, as they say
satisfactory.

Now, the winter’s ice in the river
could take a structure that size
for a spring vacation near Montreal.
That means we have to take the dock out
every September and erect it
every June.

If the term
moving heaven and earth
means anything
it may refer to
upping and downing
that dock.

The first time we did it,
there were six of us.
The last two times
there were one and a half
(one being one of my sons,
the half being yours truly.)

We did it again today
Fathers’ day
(or in the local family vernacular,
“Wonderful Sons Day”)
and I must say
we get slicker
and more wonderful
every time.

Amen.

[print_link]

Posted in aging, fun, Poetry, river poems | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Fountain (IBPC Honorable Mention)

I just received word that the most recent draft of “Fountain” (first posted in wordcurrents March 16, 2008) has received an Honorable Mention in the May Interboard Poetry Competition (IBPC). The poem was named Poem of the Week in Wild Poetry Forum, then was selected as one of three poems to represent Wild Poetry Forum in IBPC for the month of May.

Here is the most recent draft of “Fountain”, preceded by the Wild Poetry Forum Administrator’s announcement and followed by the Judge’s comment:

Many congratulations are in order for Douglas Hill who received an Honorable Mention this month in the competition. Way to go, Douglas! We are very happy for you. We would like to sincerely thank our other entrants – Dale McLain and Lois P. Jones (Emusing) – for representing WPF and for their participation. Wild sends out congratulations to all the winning poets and boards. We send special congratulations to Sarah J. Sloat, a much beloved member here at Wild too, for her first place honors for The Waters forum. Good luck to all in next month’s competition!

Honorable Mention
Fountain
by Douglas Hill
Wild Poetry Forum

I recall the spiral down the spit-fountain
in my father’s dental chamber: I leaned
too long over the sucking shiny throat,
stalled, steeling against my return to
his adept hands wielding instruments
that would drill precisely into my fault.

I lay back dry mouthed on that baroque
black barbershop chair, as if for a trim,
scissors on the sides; resigned to the rest,
longing for a sip of water, some respite.
He turned secretively as he would in
the kitchen to decant a tumbler of scotch.

The pestle riffed a hard hissing mantra:
he urged it against the mortar, mixing
the mystic silver-mercury amalgam;
then into me flooded the moment of bonding
more intimate than thirst:
his soft warm fingers in my mouth.

Judge’s Comments:
I’m the dictionary definition of a daddy’s girl, and this gentle poem–so full of specific detail, yet at its center a tender and intense moment between father and child–hit me right in the heart. –Patricia Smith

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