| InterBoard Poetry Competition | |
THE OLD MAN
Phil Stinson
(Rabbit Hole)
Mother and I left him his clarinet,
since it couldn't be used for bodily harm.
He plays “Melancholy Baby” over and over,
eyes closed as if in a trance,
forgets the final line and cadence.
Those calm limpid eyes still flare in a second
lights flicker and crackle, angry
nurses sprint in with restraints
braced for another episode.
Repeating meaningless syllables as the drugs take effect
he looks over suddenly at me
starts to hum the lullaby he used to play at bedtime
smiles as hairs rise on my arms.
My sister grows apples out West somewhere.
She sent him a box of rotten ones once.
The son of a bitch used to whip scars into our backs and legs
did things to us we choose not to recall
played Benny Goodman as we kept our eyes fixed on the floor
explained the beautiful abstract nature of jazz
threw his wine goblet at our cowering mother
who secretly taught us Chopin.
Judge Harvey Stanbrough’s comment: “What vaulted this poem into second place was the general sense of calm that overlaid the thinly veiled underlying roiling turmoil. The poet absolutely nailed the ending.”
About the InterBoard Poetry Competition
Archive of IBPC Winners
3rd Place Winner, June 2001
