David Plumb

Link to home pageLink to current issueLink to back issuesLink to information about the magazineLink to submission guidelinesSend email to misfitmagazine.net


One of Those Days

Persistent rain, no chance to walk
Dark not mysterious but wantonArtwork by Gene McCormick
I sit thinking she’s out working
Maybe a too long day
With no beginning or end
It seems the day is leaking
Ravioli for dinner?
Hot tea, salad?
Who knows right now
I saw the date on the tape
Of mother’s funeral service
Fifteen years ago tomorrow
And I wasn’t there
And the last day I saw her
Tiny 65 pounds she lurched
Up in the bed and took
Both my arms and said
“Let’s go!”
And I kissed her hair
Laid her back down
I don’t remember rain
No, it must have been
Snow driving back
To Boston and a day later
At dinner with nieces, brother
And wife
What strange times
I had gone shopping with Janet
And we stopped in a market
That sold emu meat
And I asked what does it tastes like
And the guy said
It tastes like meat
Does it taste like chicken, beef, lamb
Or Pork?  No
It tastes like meat
And so we sat
There eating emu meat
That tastes like meat
Then the phone rang
and a nurse said
Mom was dead
Strange thing being
I knew it when I picked up
The phone and looked
Back at my niece Jennifer
Who had just lifted her fork
Today the rain sweeps the street
A few puddles to remind us
When and how we might
Think things through
Remember to love the moment
Beyond hope, emu meat
Forgiveness, awe and Let’s Go.


David Plumb has worked as a paramedic, cab driver, cook, tour guide, and adjunct professor.  Writing has appeared in The Washington Post, Outlaw Poetry Network, Sport Literate, Gargoyle and One Paycheck Away.  He volunteers for An Alzheimer’s Poetry Project and is past director for a homeless shelter.  Will Rogers said, “Live in such a way that you would not be ashamed to sell your parrot to the town gossip.” Plumb says, “It depends on the parrot.”