I'm Cool

This morning, we read our poems aloud in Poetry II. My teacher (Angela Merta) said that mine was "killer" and I am excited.

What I Think of When I Think of Frank Kerr

I always thought he would come back like this.
And while then I could only see a dark box,
and my father was wringing the life
from my hand,
I imagined his fishing boat and the trucker hat
from the tortilla factory in El Paso.
I imagined his smile that hid his teeth
and the fold of skin from nose to cheeks
that was just like mine
and my father's
My mother and my sister were there,
but they have pale skin
blonde hair
smooth faces.
I always thought he would echo slowly across the lake,
eager fish interrupting the deep and bellowing voice
as it traveled to my feet,
swinging and brushing the water.
It is early in the morning,
pale pink and yellow
over the water
before any else has stirred.
And it takes on a dark green
when you're inside it.
Your feet fade into colder territory.
Past a certain point, they disappear.
Maybe you feel a fish,
the faintest friction.
I know that he is all of these things-
the hum of a boat's motor,
the creaking, tolling panels of wood,
a dog still pawing a fish beneath the surface of the water.


-Hannah