The cabin of my dreams is a love poem
to my father, who often stood still, w/ his
right leg far forward, as if stepping on the site,
naming it w/ a footprint on high ground,
choosing it to be a vista like Oxbow,
its strata in the approach as horizontal,
embedded, how its reaches across cultures
& draws us into its family table, setting
out salt & hard tack; & after a cold night,
w/ stars thru the roof, my father rises early,
spreads the kindling, & crackles warmth
in us—so that if we could float love, we
would choose to do it here in North Dakota,
w/ clouds covering our imperfections,
blurring our failures, color itself seen
thru a filter that presses us close to father
—absent that, a poem provides us love
in miniature, so I cushion this overlook
onto my palm, where dense-hair bison walk,
& breathe onto trails as rough as marbled hair
—we all rise in the love of a warm cabin to hear
father say, I was born a hundred years too late.
Jan Wiezorek writes from Michigan. His work appears, or is forthcoming, in The London Magazine, The Westchester Review, Lucky Jefferson, Loch Raven Review, Minetta Review, Talon Review, Modern Poetry Review, The Passionfruit Review, Sparks of Calliope, The Wise Owl, Poetry Center San José, and The Orchards Poetry Journal, among other journals. He taught writing at St. Augustine College, Chicago, and wrote the e-book Awesome Art Projects That Spark Super Writing (Scholastic, 2011). He posts at janwiezorek.substack.com.