Tuesday, August 13th
alone
Earl Hines (1903-1983; piano), “I Ain’t Got Nobody,” 1928
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lagniappe
reading table
“At Lake Haptacong” (excerpt)
By David Ferry (1924-)The trees look thinly leaved, as if it were
Late autumn, early spring, or winter in a place
Where dead leaves cling to trees all winter long.You cannot tell what weather or season it is.
My mother, as in all those early pictures,
Although in this one already having lostHer girlish slimness, looks sexually alive,
Full of energy, her hair dark, abundant,
Her smile generous (though maybe less so thanIn the pictures taken a few years earlier).
Somewhere in this picture there is inscribed
The source or secret, somewhere inscribed the cause,Of the anxious motherly torment of disapproval,
The torment not resisted by my father,
Visited by my mother on my sister,The baby in the picture, torment that was
Perhaps in turn the cause of the alcoholism
That, many years later, the baby in the pictureWon out over. But it’s all unreadable
In this charming family photograph which, somehow,
Perhaps because of the blankness of the sky,Looks Russian, foreign, of no country I know.
