Union Cafe

[NM Oliver]

Our family gathered for Sunday lunch
in a new restaurant. 
The menus arrived...brunch?
An unexpected restriction;
but we all found compromise
and left quite satisfied
a few hours later.

Between courses, and
from out of left field
my father casually hit us with 
'I read an article yesterday,
and I think I have dementia!'

I was reminded of my wife's father (Austin)
dying in hospital, unaware (we thought).
All the time our words spoke only of a discharge.

Three months later
he left in a box, all of us
chilled by conversations lost;
he'd played along for our sake.

We've known for years about my dad.

He received the usual denials from the others.
I leaned close and whispered
'Before it happens big time, walk into the kitchen, 
look at Mum and say
'Who the fuck are you? Get out of my house'
He laughed so loud, 
the way Austin would have.


 
 
 

Hi Colm

I must say I do like this and didn't expect the humour at the end. I do think you could trim the detail of S1 a little and whilst you say you were all aware of your dad's condition beforehand, I don't think that everyone could have left the event satisfied with him revealing his concerns. I know you refer to the food but it would have altered the experience I think. Of course, you were there and would know better than me!

Enjoyed.
Niall.
 

[Colm Roe]

Thanks Niall,
S1 is a mirror, separate to, but reflecting the last S.
We were satisfied; with the food (S1) and with my father's admission (S6)
It was a relief to hear him talk about it. 
I was struck by the synchronicity between the two scenarios.
Appreciate your observations.

[dploeser]

it's a touching story.  one we can all relate to.  I don't see this as a poem though.  very biographical

[Tracy Mitchell]

Colm,

This comes as somewhat of a surprise.  I recall Sparky explaining how poems don't benefit from the narrative connections required of prose -- poems only need to have the thread-connections and everything else is fluff, puff, or padding.  As time went on, I learned what that meant primarily from your poems, Colm.  This, and a few recent postings have veered more toward narrative -- not a bad thing, just a new thing to see from you.

Like everyone else, I love where this poem ends up.  For my money, the first stanza could read:

Our family gathered for Sunday lunch.
The menus arrived...brunch?

If that is too drastic, just cut L.5 and call it good. 

Good stuff.

T