S E P I A

virtual, in my mind
in my
parents’ home I climb—
 
attic ascent,
dusk gives way to  
dust airborne—
 
turning ‘round  
where I am,
mute in thoughts—
 
the war,
a distant siren,
Jo Stafford singing
 
long ago & far away
I dreamed
a dream one day—
 
looking
for someone
with a ration book,
 
who ships out at  
dawn, photo
of me in his wallet,
 
insulation
lays bare his bones
among the ruins—
 
drone of bombers,
I sink into a
leatherette—
 
unyielding past,
scattered
and mummified—
 
old binders of  
brittle
DECCA 78’s—
 
Andrews Sisters
drinking  
rum & Coca Cola—
 
voices, laughter,
Mom & Dad,
echos from a trunk—
 
were they ever
that young
like I never was?