GROW LIKE THE CREEK: THREE POEMS FOR LOUIS

GROW LIKE THE CREEK:

THREE POEMS FOR LOUIS

 

(For Louis Martin Casuga-Lalonde at Six)

 

1. Wiping Him Dry

 

Grow like the creek, as did this wisp of a boy

rising from the water, hallooing:

Look, abuelo, I can dive, I can swim!

He wiggled his salva vida floating to the edge,

his face toward the bright blue sky: I am good!

 

As all grandfathers would, I said: You are!

Oh, you are, my boy. And while I wipe you dry

after this dousing frolic, I run my hands over

your body, cleaning it of any tinge of dry clay,

loathe to think that if I were shaping you

from the mud East of Eden, I’d want you pure,

unalloyed, a cherubic imp of a teaser, a laughter

tickled out of a dream, a pure delight, and clean.

 

2. Like the River

 

Under his breath, he also lisped a wistful
plea to the walls around him or whoever
could hear an old man’s prayer:

Please, let him build them strong, and not
destroy; and for my nieto jovencito, to never
forget that there are grander castles in the air.
Please, let him grow like the creek,
when freed of silt will turn to clearest blue.
O, let him flow like the river and find his sea.

 

3. Yet Another Robot at Six

 

He would build them with empty soda cans,

recycled wire, parts unknown until they move.

Look, abuelo, a robot! Whence come this love

for all things foreign to this dotard askance

about why little lads like him would prattle

about apps and some such instead of apples?

 

He blew the candles on his pumpkin cake,

I bet he wished for yet another robot kit

and another program of games on his Ipad,

head bowed before yet another gizmo lit

on a screen, a praying stance for this lad

who would grow up, I bet, with his little head

a tad forward and leading him like earlier

kin in some stone age, a neo-Neanderthal,

peering at an Iphone, an Ipad. Nowhere else.

 

---ALBERT B. CASUGA

June 20, 2013. Mississauga