The Visit

“I saved these just for you” she said.
“I knew you’d come one day to find them.”
Bending to her bureau drawer,
the moonlight swept across her face
and there ‘neath tattered wings I saw
a form familiar.

She picked up bits of ivory
with her musing fingertips
worn now from the years.
A smile, soft and lovely,
graced her frail and shallow face
and flash-backs
just like shreds of lightening . . .
flooded me.

“It was you, wasn’t it?" I gasped.
“All the while it was you . . .
tiptoeing past my bed
like a thief who’d stolen jewels.
I thought that I was dreaming . . .
swore I saw those wings . . .
yes, and that fairy scent you always wore.
You lived with us back then, Grandma,
and all the while . . .
I thought that thief was Mom!”

She bid me, “Close your eyes
and open up your hand”,
as if I were standing small again
and I anxiously obeyed.
Then she dropped them,
my tiny ivory tooth buds
saved since childhood
toppled in the center of my palm,
"treasures, jewels" she said
. . . her memories.

And there we lay that evening
recalling heart-soaked lullabies
rocking in the dark
till all the breath of
all the years
dissolved into my arms
and the long cord of Grandma's love
~ wrapped my heart with gold.


Joanne Cucinello 2007

Father of My Heart

Father of My Heart


You visit me in dreams
sometimes . . . silent always . . .
often in disguise,
my father, who was seldom silent
has no tongue to speak now
in that world of spirits.

The passing years
attempting to erase
the sound of your voice
the way you spoke my name
. . . that smile
the one I memorized
that kept you just for me
. . . my father.

Death came for you
swift and unexpected
on that rainy night
in a drunken car that raced
to claim you for its own.

We who loved you still
were set to cheer
and celebrate your life
of eighty years . . .
in just a few short days
but that was not to be
. . .was it?

Instead we gathered,
the five of us, around your
wooden overcoat
to cry and weep remembering
how in childhood
we made you promise
not to die.

You would have danced with me
that night and with my sisters
the way you always did
when the old songs played
shuffling
those limber feet
across the floor with ease
shaming men much younger
but that was not to be
. . . was it?.
No, sweet Father . . .
that delight was saved for heaven.

Daddy . . . was your name,
since that first day I could utter it
and crawl upon your lap
since the first day you looked into my eyes
with your great soft love.
Daddy . . . you were always mine.

I remember how you walked inside my life
carrying me on your shoulders
so many times
telling me how I was always wanted
always loved . . .
coming to my rescue
through all those teenage fears and blunders.

Daddy . . . you had such a special heart
strange to some who'd scoff
at your devotion
but what would we have done
we five little stars
without your steadfast love
those dark-remembered days
when Mama blew the roof
off of our house
and let the demons in?

Joanne Cucinello 2008