Vox Populi
A curated webspace for Poetry, Politics, and Nature with over 20,000 daily subscribers and over 8,000 archived posts.
Dick Westheimer: Skeleton Key
It’s been near thirty years
since my dad died
and when his bones—
burned and ground to dust—
reassemble, they visit here
and tell me to
clean my room. Sometimes
they ask what good am I
doing in the world, sometimes
they just cry about missing
my mom. He’d never tell her
this. Nor will I. But
I will paint a portrait
of him and hide the tears
behind the easel to make
the painting more believable.
I call my son and ask him
what my bones will
one day say to him
and he replies: nothing
that you’ve not already
written in a poem.
_____
remembering
a red bow tie
in the dead man’s urn
~
~~~~
Copyright 2025 Dick Westheimer
Dick Westheimer lives in rural southwest Ohio with his wife and writing companion, Debbie. He is winner of the 2023 Joy Harjo Poetry Prize. His chapbook, A Sword in Both Hands, Poems Responding to Russia’s War on Ukraine, is published by SheilaNaGig.
Discover more from Vox Populi
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Those last 3 couplets–love.
LikeLike
A plain-spoken, simply wrought, incandescent poem, especially “and hide the tears behind the easel to make the painting more believable…”
LikeLiked by 2 people
Exactly. Thank you, Bonnie.
LikeLiked by 2 people
It’s poems like this that give me hope that we can be better parents. I look at my children now and see that they are better parents than I was, and that makes me happy.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Beautiful, Jim. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
If only the broken bones of our humanity can reassemble–
This poem illuminates us for that job, a candle of words above the bow-tied urn–
LikeLiked by 4 people
Beautiful, Jim. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 2 people