22 July 2017
Aspiring doctor
quit med school due to a
smack across the head
those bookshelves did damage.
Integrated into the army
wings whistling through Pakistan
“I became the second man in Bharat to break the sound waves.”
sonic captain of an air fleet
“I landed that plane
the right way.”
Watching child rise up to be a race car driver
living off of papa’s income
trust fund victor of the track
daughter’s shipped across the Pacific like
a ton of marble ready to break
“I need to get out.”
so she did.
Comfortable living in a quaint three floored compound
motorcycles parked in the garage
slash
“office where I do work”
snacking on Weetabix and chocolate
“I like fresh fruit smoothies”
watching the stock market climb, swing, dilate
accelerate.
Back to America to breathe salt-stitched air
Daughter’s happy with her kids and
husband
take a dive in their new food, their new room, their new bike, their new pool
it’s peaceful, but
too cold at
85 degrees
“I’m going to Malaysia.”
At home where it’s warm and spiced
won’t take Marijuana ’cause
he’ll get shot.
Return to the Jewel of Asia and take a round trip back to
the Land of Opportunity
so he can sip his cannabis and
talk of the wind-riling
glory days
grandkids getting old
16, writing a novel
13, still not as tall as his
other friends
“Do you want to become a pilot?”
they’re both unsure
she just wants to fly, that’s all.
“I’m going to Malaysia.”
“No you’re not.”
“I’m going to Malaysia.”
“Take your cannabis.”
“I’m going to Malaysia.”
“Please don’t.”
taste buds gone rotten
skin and bones
eyes bright and beautiful and blue
pseudo aspirations
akin to Schrödinger’s poor cat
not as alive as
we thought he could be.
“There’s no point in living.”
and he couldn’t have been more wrong, but
his words have gone drier than
Bharat’s rivers
and he’s ghost-like in his seat, trying
to soak up the sunlight in his
down coat
summer time is never quite scalding enough
receives hugs and hesitant smiles
and we’re not sure he understands that
“I’m going to Malaysia”
is
not
probable.
They stayed with him all night
All night
“I’m not sure you want to see him like this.”
By the time 10:53 rolls around
his voice had sunk deep into his heart
that’s thrumming like molasses
Slowly.
Quietly.
hears grandson’s voice through the speaker
“um, not sure what to
say
um, I hope that—
um, I love you so much”
granddaughter wants to
sketch a biplane
for him to see before,
well
Instead I’m sitting here typing this while he
follows my aunt’s dead dog into the
sky.
I cry every time I read this.
<3
Maya, I realize this poem is about your grandfather who passed away this summer. Evocative. I did not know that he originally studied medicine. But I remember that your grandfather’s father was a doctor , so it is understandable. I am glad that you and Noah were able to be with him at he end.
May he rest in peace!
Grammy Savoie
Thank you, Grammy!