POETRY FRIDAY: A Poem by Sherman Alexie

Recently, I read Sherman Alexie’s book The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. I have become a fan of both his prose and poetry. I selected the following poem by Alexie, which I found at the website of the Academy of American Poets.

Alexie's poem reminded me of how, for a period of time after my father had passed away, I somehow expected to see him at my parents’ house when I visited my mother.

Grief Calls Us to the Things of This World

By Sherman Alexie

The eyes open to a blue telephone

In the bathroom of this five-star hotel.

I wonder whom I should call? A plumber,

Proctologist, urologist, or priest?

Who is most among us and most deserves

The first call? I choose my father because

He's astounded by bathroom telephones.

I dial home. My mother answers. "Hey, Ma,

I say, "Can I talk to Poppa?" She gasps,

And then I remember that my father

Has been dead for nearly a year.

"Shit, Mom," I say. "I forgot he’s dead. I’m sorry—

How did I forget?" "It’s okay," she says.

You can read the rest of the poem here.

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At Wild Rose Reader, I have an interview with poet and anthologist Paul B. Janeczko.

The Poetry Friday Roundup is at Wild Rose Reader today.