::Literate Blather::
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Poem: Old Garage

We bought a rundown, old house
with a broken down garage
out back,
the frame canting to the left,
endangering the neighbor’s fence.
Barn-like doors rotting,
windows cracked.
mouse droppings, cobwebs, and
black stains shaped like continents.

“Tear it down,” advised my father.
“An eye sore,” said my neighbor.
“Can’t be fixed,” the contractor told me.

In October, on a Saturday,
a cold breeze shivering the brown grass
out back,
I studied the garage from my bedroom
Character and a firm resolve, and
good form.
Aged, bent, and forgotten,
but not ready yet
for the grave.

The next day, I rolled up
my sleeves.
I bought wood and a manual,
borrowed power tools.
Days turn into weeks.
Flurries and sleet, freezing
Rime coating the brown grass.
Ice inside an old metal bucket.

In the spring,
a purple crocus poking out of the mud,
out back.
My new garage glimmers,
Freshly painted, yellow
with bright white edges.
Straight lines, new doors, and
My neighbor’s fence finally
gets to breath
a sigh of relief.

Read some of our other poets:

"Dad" by Jess Myers

"Hello, Daddy" by John K. Callahan

"Meanwhile I Kept Dancing" by Kara Emily Krantz

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