A document of civilization
They
are loving grandfathers
now
these crooked men with crooked backs
they know
which sticks to use
to whip the tree
of
where to dig
In
olive groves
they
know
of
family feuds
and
dusty roads
of names erased
To keep the faith
they know
which
grape to pick
to
make the wine
of
bodies buried
in
unmarked graves
they know
who
mocked him
called
him fag
put
a bullet in his head
they
know
they know
sitting in the summer shade
watching
their children’s children
play
on
green green grass
they
know
Albert Katz has been a professor of cognitive psychology for over 40 years and is now on the cusp of retiring. In his undergraduate days he had aspirations to be a poet, gave readings in coffee houses and published some poems in long defunct small literary journals. He found it increasingly harder to write poetry once he started graduate work and through most of his academic, career, publishing extensively instead in scientific journals. He has been married (and divorced) twice, has three children, two of whom have published themselves. As retirement started to loom, he found that his poetic voice started to reappear, after almost 50 years dormant. Over the last two years he has published (or have poems accepted for publication) in Poetry Quarterly, Three Line Poetry, Inman Indiana and, most recently, Pangolin Review. He has had one poe published previously in Ariel Chart.
Tags:
Poetry