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Donall Dempsey
Poems
Sep 2019
THIS MAN WHO IS NOT MY FATHER IS MY FATHER
THIS MAN WHO IS NOT MY FATHER IS MY FATHER
This man
who is not
my father
is
my
father.
The other’s laugh:
“It’s not your turn but
he calls only for you! ”
And so I go
& clean him up
his skeleton thin body
splashed with ***** & ****.
I laugh & joke
with him.
He chuckles
as I tell him:
“Michael...you used to be
so full of crap
but ****...now you’re not! ”
Lucky
our Irish sense of humour
extends this far
say anything with love and
it becomes so.
It is a tired old joke
but like a child he
pounces on its nuances
relishing each pause and stupid syllable!
I bathe
him
this man
who is not my father
gently as if he were
my child.
I sing
to him
all the old songs
I learned
at my father’s hands
as he bathed me.
“...why does my poor heart keep following you...”
We sing together
softly as I bathe him
dress him
anew
in the memory
of my father.
This man
who is not
my father
becomes
my father
as my hands learn
to care for him.
I settle
a pillow
behind
his head
wipe sweat
from his forehead
stroke
his hair
until his sleep
is full
of dreams
...dreams.
Written by
Donall Dempsey
Guildford
(Guildford)
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