My new book, Everything We Bring, All We Leave Behind, has just been accepted by Main Street Rag and will be published sometime this year.
Tying A Tie
I saw you naked
only once, walking from the bedroom
to the bath. I'd never seen hair
that black. When you came back
you held a towel there.
Once I watched while you put on
one of those starched white shirts,
tucking the tails between your legs.
But I needed to know the right
way to shower, wash my hair, shave.
Or how to tie a tie,
a Windsor knot or that other one.
Maybe you didn't know.
I still don't know
if I do things right,
if everybody reaches through their fly
and pulls their underpants down to pee.
Much less sex. So when I got
into trouble, you said, "You've
destroyed everything we ever tried to build
up in this community."
And God forbid I ever miss church four times
a week, even once a year to watch
"The Wizard of Oz" on Sunday night.
I still dream about those no's,
wake up crying, pounding on your chest
even in your coffin. You don't seem to
mind, or even notice.
God comes first, you said.
Well, God has you now, maybe teaching you
about that loop on the back
of the big end that the little end goes through.
© 2018 William Greenway
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