sunday afternoons…
The faded brown leather couch holds
the three women in my life –
two playing Sudoku while
the third, their mother,
hones her Cash Cow skills.
The coal black straight-back chair holds
the boy in my life talking to his friends
via headphones as they all gradually
improve as black op zombie shooters.
The dark chocolate love seat holds
the man vital to their lives, me, the one
reading Bill Holm’s poetry while cutting
his eyes from time to time so as not to rouse
the departed Icelander’s ire by missing
the vibrant notes of life’s Sunday afternoons.
Whew…glad I scrolled down…thought Bjork had been a weekend guest!
Bjork? That was last weekend, silly rabbit…do you know Holm’s poetry??
can an icelander’s ire be roused after he has turned into light?
well, maybe…maybe he turned into a polar bear, as that’s how he was described here on earth…
I had the pleasure of meeting Bill Holm on a number of occasions, usually at a book signing for one of his books. Bill Holm was very proud of his Icelandic heritage, and he showed it off to great advantage. Everything about Bill was extra- large: his physical stature, his personality and his booming voice.
One time as he was signing, he noticed my last name on my name tag. “Is that Finnish?” he asked. I said yes. He looked squarely at me and challenged, “Do you speak the language?” I am Finnish by marriage, not by birth, but under that ferocious Icelandic gaze, a complete sentence of Finnish appeared in my brain and was proclaimed aloud by me. Bill was satisfied by my recitation, and he completed the signing of the book. I had never had to pass an examination to get a book signed before!
What a fabulous story, thanks so much!…I never had the pleasure of meeting him in person, but so wish I could have…may I ask which of his books he was signing??
I believe it was “The Dead Get By With Everything.” I love your suggestion that Bill might be a polar bear,currently. I also think he might want to be remembered as an organ – large, fun to look at, creative and good pipes.