Memento

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Memento

I was with him when he found it
discarded among cedar and limestone,
the skull of an 8-point buck that he plated
with chips from a shattered mirror.

A record of my son’s painstaking labor -
breaking the mirror, selecting the chips,
affixing them, patient and compelled.

I look into the skull’s mirrors,
meditate on the chaos of my visage
reflected in a kaleidoscope of loss.

In this curiosity of bone and silvered glass,
did he see an indifferent universe 
where his future would be denied?

It’s a universe we share. He is father to my grief
and I am father to his memory - this skull
a jagged memento of shadow and light.

Memento v. 3



I was with him when he found it

discarded among cedar and limestone,

the skull of an 8-point buck that he plated

with chips from a shattered mirror.



A memento of my son’s painstaking labor -

breaking the mirror, selecting the chips,

affixing them, patient and compelled.



In this curiosity of bone and silvered glass,

could he see into an indifferent universe 

where his future would be denied?



I look into the skull’s mirror,

meditate on the chaos of my visage

reflected back in a kaleidoscope of loss.



It’s a universe we share. He is father to my grief

and I am father to his memory.

Reflections fused by the happenstance of now.







Memento v.2







I was with him when he found it



discarded among cedar and limestone,



the skull of an 8-point buck that he plated



with chips from a shattered mirror.







A memento of my son’s painstaking labor -



breaking the mirror, selecting the chips,



affixing them, patient and compelled.







I look into the skull’s mirror,



meditate on the chaos of my visage



reflected back in a kaleidoscope of loss.







In its reflection, this curiosity of bone and silvered glass,



could he see into an indifferent universe 



where his future would be denied?







It’s a universe we share. He is father to my grief



and I am father to his memory



that time has fused into the happenstance of now.



















Memento v.1















I was with him when he found it







discarded among cedar and limestone,







the skull of an 8-point buck 







now plated with chips from a shattered mirror,







a memento of my son’s painstaking labor







breaking the mirror, selecting the chips,







affixing them, patient and compelled.















I look into the skull’s mirror,







meditate on the chaos of my visage







reflected back in a kaleidoscope of loss.















What did he see in its reflection, 







this curiosity of bone and silvered glass?







Could he see into an indifferent universe 







where his future would be denied?















It’s a universe we share. He is father to my grief







and I am father to his memory







that time has fused into the happenstance of now.