Sat 21 Jan 2012
My Father Runs, a My Father Poem
Posted by Patrick Scott Vickers under my father , poetryNo Comments
My Father Runs
Tonight my father was not the cat that I did not run over. He ran across two lanes of traffic, fur white in front and back, a black band around his middle. A middle that draped low and dragged. He was ragged from the rain. The first drizzling rain of this warmest of Januaries. The light changed. Red to green. Day to twilight. The light changed. The car’s wheels spun patterns that flowed into nothing as soon as they were made, the light pouring out of the ground and up into the air and the cat that was not my father ran. When I turned left he was still alive. Halfway across the four lanes total. None of the other cars stopped for the cat that was not my father. And of course I did not look back. There would have been no point.







