Poetry
Father // Son
“It’s easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.” Frederick Douglas
He’d drive a ten-penny straight
into the two-by-four
with one silent smash
a satisfied smile.
Rolled up his sleeves not mindful
of the muscles just eager to change
the tire. Jacked up the car
I thought could have just lifted.
Then plugged the crowbar on,
jerked once, loosened a nut.
Spun the bar, watched the lug leap off.
Five times.
Five times other way.
Spare on.
On our way.
Let me challenge him at gin.
Drank Cutty. Dragged Camel
after Camel.
Talked non-stop, remembered every card
and told me, “You’re about to go down”
as he laid down his hand.
“Gin!”
Rufus Wright
Rufus Wright claims more crises than quota, more joys than deserved. His poetry comes from Blue Ridge education, MBA in NYC, teaching junior high, surviving corporations and several marriages… and hearing, watching, and appreciating what’s gone on around him for more than 77 years. He lives in central Texas, loves Cindy, and writes every day. He has poems published or to be published in Abandoned Mine, Emerge, Orchards Poetry, The Debut, The Raven’s Perch, October Hill.