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please advise stop [I might travel his death a creaking and swaying beneath me stop]

Rusty Morrison

I might travel his death a creaking and swaying beneath me stop
there are static expressions freed now and passing along the walls stop
an object isn’t what is hidden but what smiles out from the hiding please

with only the slightest effort I might abandon every father stop
or read them all cover to cover please
eyes turn like the telling of stories first inward then out stop

the next page wasn't the kind of listening I wanted but it was all I was offered stop
to reveal as in the Latin re- plus velum meaning veil stop
the thought of him still everywhere only a new place to hide please advise

From the true keeps calm biding its story by Rusty Morrison. Copyright © 2008 by Rusty Morrioson. Used by permission of Ahsahta Press.

Rusty Morrison

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the rustle of a Sunday bundle of newspapers tucked under my father's arm stop
and no father walking toward me stop
on the branch only oak leaves reddening as wind ripens their talent for exodus stop

on the lawn a scatter of wrens head-down but tail-erect stop