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More poems by Stanley KunitzStanley Kunitz | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Stanley KunitzBooks by Stanley Kunitz

The Portrait

Stanley Kunitz

My mother never forgave my father
for killing himself,
especially at such an awkward time
and in a public park,
that spring
when I was waiting to be born.
She locked his name 
in her deepest cabinet
and would not let him out,
though I could hear him thumping.
When I came down from the attic
with the pastel portrait in my hand 
of a long-lipped stranger
with a brave moustache
and deep brown level eyes,
she ripped it into shreds
without a single word
and slapped me hard.
In my sixty-fourth year
I can feel my cheek
still burning.


Anonymous submission.

Added: 21 Jul 2002 | Last Read: 23 Jun 2018 9:31 PM | Viewed: 8039 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/5635/ | Viewed on 23 June 2018.
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