top of page
Search
Writer's pictureTattoo Magazine

Ode to My Father | Claire Beaumont

Driving through a neighborhood too expensive for us in light traffic.

It’s where he grew up, and later returned as a college graduate.

The sunlight, cloying and insistent in the October afternoon,

Is absorbed by his work-worn hands on the steering wheel

Strong,

Firm,

With veins that bulge like the roots of a tree.

So unlike my own,

A watery creation

That drops everything

Carelessly tossed over.

He cranes his neck out the open window,

Squints in spite of his transition lenses.

He spots a neighborhood haunt.

A nondescript greasy spoon diner

With young clientele

Lounging on the sidewalk.

“I can’t believe they’re remodeling Renner’s,”

He exclaims

To no one in particular.

I don’t ask who they are.

I allow him to traverse this well-worn path

Of a simpler time

But offer my hand

To guide him over the potholes.

6 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Bottles | Emma Baker

The candlelight shone off the colored glass of the bottles that lined the shelves, flickering and illuminating the old, faded labels....

The Guardian | Emma Baker

He’s waited for such a very long time. For as far back as he can remember, he’s known of his task—to protect his king even if it costs...

Breathe | Claire Beaumont

I feel the cusp of unformed emotions bubbling up in my throat. They threaten to spill out at inopportune moments. A throwaway phrase, a...

Commentaires


Post: Blog2_Post
bottom of page