The America of forgetting
My father sailed into New York
On the ship Queen Mary, 1954.
I have a photograph of him, all smiles,
Unweighted by sorrow.
I imagine him arising in the middle of the night
Climbing the steps to the sea-salted deck
And dropping his past like an anchor
Into the wild black ocean.
His smile says it all —
Wide enough to show a crooked incisor.
He arrived in the America of forgetting,
More life before him than behind,
A path at his feet as clean and sharp
As a fresh snow on Brooklyn.
By Wayne Myers-Taylor
Wayne Myers-Taylor divides his time between writing poetry and short fiction, teaching yoga, and updating websites. Previously, he was a journalist at Good Morning America, World News Tonight, and other media outlets. He lives in Northern California, but Brooklyn is his home.