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Iron Mountain

by Leslie Ann Eisenberg

A long London Fog trench on a snowy morning
has a “talk” with the bus-stop bully,
less words than thunderous expression.
That kid will never bother me again.

The navy suit on work nights sits behind
a quiet newspaper and a highball
before the evening news.
During commercials I get ceiling-bumped
when he scoops me up in his arms
so high above, up there, up where
DaddyÂ’s so impossibly tall.

Work pants and an un-tucked shirt on Saturdays
walk me down to the woodshop where I sand and glue
and learn by watching and in not too long heÂ’s ready to
collapse in his easy chair, watch football, and
teach me about penalty kicks and safeties.

Apron-clad on Sunday, DaddyÂ’s cooking day.
Morning flapjacks shaped “L,” “A,” and
a bonus lady with a bump, a pregnant pancake
which in nine months will become an “S.”
He makes spaghetti dinner al dente, no vegetables,
Heaps his plate high, scrapes it clean.
Sauce splatters his tie, sauce turns
Dumbo-sized ears steam-hot red,
begging for a tickle.
I live to make him laugh again.

Late nights when I canÂ’t sleep.
a white t-shirt sits at my bedside.
A quiet mountain of understanding,
hazelgrays gaze with concern,
the palm of his hand strokes my forehead
until my face is soft and I drift.

On any given day, a blue golf shirt
is the guardian of my secrets.
Sturdy shoulder of compassion to weep upon
once hid this same burden from the child
who is child no longer.

Dining over many lunches a worn leather jacket,
stoic no more, speaks in long awaited black and white.
We launch an alternate ending to the endless
waste of another lonely generation.
A soft, safe, jacket leads me away
from the smoke to high and clear ground,
so high above, up there, up where
IÂ’ll sail, so high.

11/01/2006

Author's Note: Eisenberg means “iron mountain.” I gave this poem, along with "Twin Towers," each in a separate frame to my dad for his 75th bday. He cried......every little girl, no matter how old, loves and needs her daddy.

Posted on 11/01/2006
Copyright © 2024 Leslie Ann Eisenberg

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 11/01/06 at 06:25 PM

Hi PK. Wonerful, wonderful, wonderful! The personification of your father through the suit, t-shirt, etc., is perfect. Word choice is excellent and the depth of emotions runs strong, but never saccharine. I love the tone and texture throughout. This deserves much attention. Potd suggestion from me, and a favorite. Bravo, PK! (and I really mean it!) Thanks.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/02/06 at 02:35 AM

Leslie, this is a marvelous work! I enjoyed finding out what your name meant and to apply that to your father's character is most excellent! To stroll with you as you describe your father via his various garbs and activities is delightful and very satisfying. "stoic no more, speaks in long awaited black and white." - there is something very special about this line - that final time when the father feels comfortable enough to relate to his adult child honestly as an equal. What a loving life you have had with this man. Very inspired writing. Thank you. Definitely POTD!!

Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/02/06 at 12:09 PM

Remembering Dad! What a wonderful tribute! Great use of analogy.

Posted by Karl Waldbauer on 11/03/06 at 07:46 AM

Our astute comrades said everything I could possibly have said about this stunning piece except...it took me back, way back to a long ago different time.

Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 11/03/06 at 03:26 PM

Every movement in this brings scent and feelings. Story within story, and - like Kristina - I love learning your last name...in a poem! tré bién!

Posted by Steven Kenworthy on 11/04/06 at 04:54 AM

this is in a way, a very sweet poem. this is in my humble opinion a gigantic departure from the other things you've written, although i must say your topic variety is more than strong. i like how you take something normal, perhaps somewhat simplistic and give it so much life. i feel like i know this guy even. that's impressive. anytime someone makes me feel like i actually know a character from their poem, i know they've written a strong piece. the last line is the clincher times ten. i LOVE the finish. a good last line is like fancy icing on a tasty cake. nice work lae!

Posted by Rachelle Howe on 11/05/06 at 04:53 PM

Holy crap. I mean, I knew you had it in you, I knew the pieces were there, I knew it was waiting to come boiling up and I knew, just knew, that the aftermath would be striking but I had no idea that it would bowl me over like this.

Posted by Charles E Minshall on 11/05/06 at 11:17 PM

Wonderful read Leslie....Charlie

Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 11/06/06 at 06:54 AM

Well placed at the No.1 slot. Excellent poetry, PK!

Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 11/08/06 at 05:29 AM

Amazing progression, and true to life...these are the real associations that link poetically in our lives, that we remember and in fact--make poets out of us. The patterning here is fantastic and clearly communicates emotionally and with great visuals. The worn leather jacket and iron mountain seem to be of one material, Perfect. And as one who had a father such as this, my idol in growing up, who shared all these kinds of details with me -- I more than identify! Excellent.

Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 11/21/06 at 07:10 PM

Superb poetry, PK......congrats on an excellent potd!

Posted by Charles E Minshall on 11/22/06 at 03:37 AM

Congratulations for poem of the day Leslie...Charlie

Posted by JD Clay on 03/23/08 at 10:41 PM

You are a very fortunate woman, PK. It’s plain to see when, where, how and why you came to be the Princess Kitty with a daddy like this to rub up against. That tiara fits you well too knowing it came from a King. Oh yeah, cool poem too! It’s no wonder I suppose, given the historical account you so elegantly display.

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