Traveller

My stepfather showed me oceans.

Now these midnight moments
call and flesh the ketch
from childhood,
dusted by moonlight,
perfectly still
at the end of the pier.

That New Year’s Eve we danced
in circles on the sand.
Sand and sea joined flat.
We might have walked straight out
with no dividing breath.

‘St. Elmo‘s Fire,’ he said
pointing, as flame without wind
blew in the bare poles
leaving them clean.
The moon’s long wake
pierced the horizon.

My stepfather gave me boats.
Tonight he’s dying,
I’m far from home.

Twin masts faintly gilded
rise perfectly still
through all my seas, all ships
poised ever since,
a track of light
widening across the water.

Gone by morning.


First published in Universe Cat (Melbourne, Pariah Press, 1985)
Also in Secret Leopard (Paris, Alyscamps Press, 2005)

Poets United asks us for a Father's Day poem for this week's Poetry Pantry. I had two dear fathers. As Father's Day in Australia is not until September, I'll save until then a poem about my birth Dad, but here is one for my beloved stepfather. It was written in January 1981, when he was indeed dying, and the final version was completed in September 1984.


This poem was also featured by Sherry at Poets United in Poem of the Week on June 24, 2013