Topic Tags:
0 Comments

A Present from Christmas Last

Russell Erwin

May 01 2010

1 mins

I toss the shirt into the wash—

To rid it of its factory must.

A gift from my father,

Though he didn’t choose it.

My sister did—shopping

Being for him out of the question

Christmas last.

This gift seemed more a duty

Being fulfilled. When I thank him

He looks at me blankly.

He has no idea.

Among all the gifts he gave

This the last

And he’s no idea

Why I kiss him, and kiss him again.

This gift, adrift of his love,

Like the card he could only mark

Bypassed him completely.

In this now the third week after his death

I toss a new shirt into the wash.

And watch it tumble then submerge

Along with every other thing there.

Comments

Join the Conversation

Already a member?

What to read next

  • Letters: Authentic Art and the Disgrace of Wilgie Mia

    Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.

    Aug 29 2024

    6 mins

  • Aboriginal Culture is Young, Not Ancient

    To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case

    Aug 20 2024

    23 mins

  • Pennies for the Shark

    A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten

    Aug 16 2024

    2 mins