I HAVE NO GIFTS TO BRING

I bring him back
bits of the world

as a child would.

Broken green glass
amongst the grass

like grass on fire
with green.

A cat that yawns
and every time it yawns

it has the bark
of an invisible dog

sound and sight
synchronised for a laugh.

A swan sitting on
a park bench

as if it were a park bench
for SWANS ONLY.

All these useless
bits of broken world

that my father will never see
I carry them back in words

like a child trying to capture
the sea in a blue bucket

careful not to spill a single thing
that's seen

back to Nass General Hospital.

Offer them up like treasure
as only the child I was could.

And then and now
your smile

treating them
as wondrous to behold

"Is the world. . . so?"
you say

"It is. . . so!" I say
both as man and boy.

The glass grins
shining in the sun

like a little green
fire.

A cat caught
mid yawn

by some ventriloquist
dog in a lonely backyard.

A swan who thinks
it's human.

You smile
at these gifts I bring

such little things

to offer
to your dying.