Chair of Fire

Mon, 12/31/2018 - 10:32 -- OldPoet

Chair of Fire

My father's naughehyde
recliner was the dusky,
sudden pink of pale pigs.
Hair-oil halo
Scrimshaw headrest

He died in bed

My brother, Richard,
did not weep...
he hosed out the hulk
that had held
our father's
few possessions

My brother burned
that old recliner
in a greasy
reluctant fire

Gasoline hissing like snakes
took the place of tears

This poem is about: 
My family

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