Thursday, May 22, 2008

Sixty-Three Years Ago Today



my father
was born
on a dirt floor
in hitt missouri,

son of
hired help
on a chicken farm.

joseph william hyde,
'buck' as he's known
to everyone
in the pool-hall.

joseph william hyde,
drinking crown royal
in a crumbling
home in iowa he
never wanted
with a burned out
pill freak
for a wife,

probably
on the couch
watching
black and white reruns
of cops
to mark the occasion.

i say probably
because i don't know,
part of me cares to
if you can follow that.

joseph william hyde,
fifty years
behind the world

five hundred miles away
from that dirt floor
in his hometown
which no longer
exists.

we've never
talked about it
never will,
but someday
i'll be out there,
waist deep in
prairie grass,

his ashes
in my fist.



Justin Hyde

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