Barbara Eknoian

FOR DAD

Rising while we were still asleep
you put your heavy boots on
and left to work the oil fields
fitting iron pipe
while your hands froze
under the cold, New Jersey sky.
When we awoke we ate oatmeal,
put on our warm clothes
and hurried to school.
Afterward, we played Hide ‘n Seek,
Hopscotch, or rode around
the neighborhood
on our shiny, Schwinn bikes.
Still you were not home from work.

On humid, summer weekends,
you dropped us off at the Arcola Pool
out in the suburbs, where we splashed,
swam and cooled off
under the spray of the huge fountain
while you returned to sweat
over the never-ending repair
to our old house
often pouring yourself some Jim Beam
in your iced coffee to keep you going.

As you hammered and sawed
to improve our lives,
did you ever wonder if it was worth
the sacrifice?
Did our little gifts of Old Spice and ties
really show you
How much we cared?

BACK TO THE FORTIES

When I hear World War II songs,
a familiar feeling envelops me.
I close my eyes and I’m
at the Stage Door Canteen dancing
to the Big Band sound
of Tommy Dorsey, Artie Shaw.
My hair upswept in a pompadour
like Betty Grable and Rita Hayworth.
I wear a gardenia behind my ear
circle the dance floor
with an Army corporal.
He hums, We’ll meet again,
Don’t know where,
Don’t know when. . .
I wonder if this could be
reincarnation,
or because I’ve watched
so many war movies.
Maybe, I react since Mom
danced to this music
when I was in her womb.
I’d rock back and forth
in the amniotic sac,
lulled by the melodic beat,
content to be warm and safe.

Barbara Eknoian is a poet and novelist. Her work has appeared in Chiron Review, Silver Birch Press, and Your Daily Poem. Her recent book is a collection of short stories, Romance is Not Too Far From Here. She hails from New Jersey and has never lost her accent.

“For Dad”, previously published in Why I Miss New Jersey