HOW I KNEW I KNEW

Yesterday was the anniversary of my fathers death, and today is the birthday of my 16 year old son. My heart is filled with memories, beautiful and tragic, my soul knowing our generations will continue to create and move forward. I wrote How I Knew I Knew about my father. At times, I see my father in my son's face; it is odd because my father's face stopped changing the day he died in 1976, stopping  my memories of him. Cherish your family and Happy 16th Birthday to my son, Vaughn Joseph.  This poem was published in the Fox Chase Review. http://www.foxchasereview.org/10WS/Contents.html
“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.” Dr. Seuss

How I Knew I Knew…

I didn’t know what you knew,
I just didn’t know you.

I couldn’t have know this was the last car ride,
in your new-blue Cadillac, with smooth-white leather seats,
automatic windows and me.

I didn’t know it would be our last drink, together,
at the bar named the Brandy Iron on the
south side of the Roosevelt Boulevard in Philadelphia.

I should have know the car wash and the promise
of a sugary-cinnamon treat as a reward was our last stop,
while waiting patiently for you to finish your full drink.

I didn’t know what you knew,
I just didn’t know you.

It was me on Saturday morning that sat with you,
you and I in our Lucky Strike and sulfur filled room,
maraschino cherry juice trapped under clear bubbles.

You made me memorize the wisdom of football
life never stayed the same, health and wealth,
your time played the odds on your mysterious game.

And you died leaving a bereaving family,
crying icy tears, year after year,
an ephemeral question of impending trust.

I didn’t know what you knew,
I just didn’t know you,

as we cruised your yacht down the Chesapeake River
with so called friends wiping memories from your children’s
wind burned fears, Frank Sinatra’s sorrowful plea

echoing over your cremated skin and bones.
Your charred vessel coating the top of a quiet Still Pond
tempting the bellies of hungry fish.


I will never forget the whisper of your last I love you,
a full moon lulled me to sleep in my four poster bed,
I was hugging my worn-brown, warrior teddy bear.

I didn’t know what you knew,
I just didn’t know you,

Visceral memories revisit through the weight of one
cherry, sinking so slowly to the bottom of my tall glass,
your drink is finished, memorial red roses long wilted.

And…
All I could think of as a child,
was…
I knew you where food for a
tiny starving fish.

And…
All I can think of as a woman
is..
I didn’t know what you knew, and
I don’t think you knew either.