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And Rest You who gave me birth between your sturdylegs are dead. Youwho gave me food and drink and washed my clothes, ironed my shirts, took me shopping for a suit and coat are dead. Now that I am old I sing you back to stay with me, companion that you were to me in youth, as now I gather strength to come to where you are and rest with you. Father Father fell backwards off the stool and as they picked him up, already paralyzed, he smiled apologetically. Every once in a while I remember he is alive and it amazes me: I have been living as if alone in the world with no one to turn to foradvice or a lecture, and yet my father aged and dry—what could he say to me but to show himself in his brittle bones as if saying, I've had my day. Sky I would be buried beside my parents to be told, Yes,our darling son, it could have been better, but we loved you. Lie down beside us, face up to the sky. 760 | Poems of the 1990s ...

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