At the Table of My Father

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Page 31

At the Table of My Father

Jesse Hegler

Knox College, Toronto, Canada

My stiff neck straightened over the psalm

Papyrus. I folded his magnifying glass

But did not remember it riding with calm

Through the hissing weave room in his grasp

With a thousand shuttles screaming their pain.

I rose to fix barbecue chicken for our supper,

For I could force no more work from my brain.

I did not remember he would taste and stir

His sauce longing for the timeless performance.

I toiled with divided mind and meager zeal.

He would baste and turn in the pleasure of the moment,

And with grace he’d host the sacrament of the meal.

I sit at the table of my father every day.

Help me remember and learn his art of play.

Easter 1995