When You Hugged Me
When You Hugged Me
by Travis Catsull
water mouth waits there
sitting on the counter
boiling my moccasins
late
into the morning
with a can of ham saved
for the rest of our lives
simply
we are only a few
less than
those
who clear their minds
with incense
and cotton candy
canes
for my grandfather
herding cattle
in the dewy dark
mud sticking to
i found some
in an old gun rifle
sitting there
posed
eating a slice of bread
soaked in whole
milk
mouth open
a jar
of handkercheifs
full of bloody mary
juice
and plum jelly
I see a cheap tombstone
I see the hawk
I see the worn statue
perch
like a police man
in the park
waiting
for me
like a hug
you are suddenly
too warm
and i am too
old
so old
i
yell
something new
to you
a quick kiss sent
during the hypnotic guardrail damage
and you cast out a line
of
whispers on a string
and we all fall down
we all sit there
drinking
making sense
of it
all
just for you
Reading this piece, i got the feeling like it was poetic epitaph for a loved one who was an important figure (the ‘you’ mentioned repeatedly) when growing up–perhaps the grandpa who is mentioned early on. Part of me thought maybe it was a personification of youth though. But no, I also sense that there is a reunion of sorts with other siblings/cousins maybe and that there is a lot of fond remembrances made from youth. Very heartfelt in a gritty real way. Thanks for sharing.