The Patriarch

by

They were a good family though he tended to see
love with inverted binoculars. Spying on his
daughters from his house on the top of the hill,
he demanded they bend their spoons to his will.
He beat one of them for pretending to drink water
from the well with her girlfriends when she was
really meeting a boy she loved. Her sister
he married off to a distant cousin in a foreign land,
a familiar stranger who beat her far harder than
he would ever have done. His honour lost in translation.
But they remember him with great fondness all the same,
keeping tokens of his travels and swapping army tales
without reproach. For he lived to a grand old age
and he loved them in his own stern, silver way.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: