Dad used to hang things
from the rafters
with wire and nails:
Bicycles, lawn chairs,
shovels and pails,
beds and sleds
and sunfish sails.
Things he treasured.
Things he mended.
Anything that could be suspended.
If light enough
and not too large,
They’d find a place in his garage.
But then one day he lost his way
and his whole world thereafter.
And if I could, I surely would
hang his widow from a rafter.
Frank William Finney was born in Massachusetts and educated at the University of Massachusetts at Boston and Simmons University. He has recently retired from teaching literature at Thammasat University in Thailand, where he taught for 25 years. He is currently employed as the caretaker of three cats: Fluffernutter, Karma, and Dappledots. They sometimes watch him while he taps or scribbles.