San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly

Toti O’Brien

MY DEAD

 

Just before he died

he asked for a
tangerine that
he caressed
tenderly until
he expired.
 
I was not there
too young I was
sent away although
I tried to say
goodbye
earlier
 
before I went
to school and
I saw him
unconscious
his head on
the side.
 
He asked for a
tangerine
he held in his
hand and that’s
how he died.
Sending
 
down through 
generations or
maybe just to
my memory
that was the most
important thing
 
for him and for us
the love for the land
the trees the love
for the fruit the
respect of nature and
its  sacred.
 
That we had been
land owners but
that meant land
lovers responsive
brave knights of
our mother earth.
 
When many years
later his son died
I was at his death
bed. How much
I adored him. He
matched
 
his father in my
heart being also my
guide and protector.
He asked for a
grapefruit, that
he called the moon.
 
I am not sure if
he put it close
to his face for the
smell or again he
caressed it. Years
had past
 
he didn’t own land
he took care
of buildings.
Still he died
with a grapefruit
in his hand.
 
He sat up in his
bed when agony
became unbearable.
And he cried
“father, father
I’m coming”.
 
He was kind and soft
spoken. But he screamed
very loud. Father,
father, I’m coming.
he said. I know
there’s a large
 
citrus garden out
there. The scents
get to me through
every single crack
in the sky. And some
times I can’t wait.