Elegy w/ Doves and LandCruiser
by Renz Iurino
(after “I Am Always” by Phil Levine), for Dad.
1.
He sounds awake today, unhurt
and I can see him out under the mesquite,
in the yard combing the gravel, strong-
handing tree limbs, Nikes pacing
the row of roses.
The doves on the telephone wire
sing refrains, cicadas droning
under this 1400-mile phone call.
Once a week, we talk basketball,
city work, the best way out
of Arizona, pack-rats chewing
the engine harness to bits.
2.
I think I’ll rest my eyes
for now
in the buzzing
of every passing headlight filament
the pulse of flowers fluorescing against panes
On these tiles
laid years ago I lie
down, I hear the light switching on
and on
and on
this pressing down
on eyelids
with every breath
my ribcage opens
down
to terracotta.
Cross-dissolve.
3.
In the freezing air, stomach tensed up,
I lift myself to carry myself toward
the kitchen door. The black-and-white
stray at the screen stares in. Her eyes
follow my pacing below stars exploding
and I am always his boy, even fighting
up the traffic on Speedway through the blurred
city in his LandCruiser, following diodes
of ambulance light, my mother in the passenger
seat all closed up in a silence louder than
the engine roar and empty words on the radio.