Aubade and Regression
"I scribble as if my father is beside me years and years ago, scoring whole-notes, white holes through rims of night."
Any Good Poem
Richard Berlin, MD, shares David Giannini's poem, "Aubade and Regression."
Aubade and Regression
Fey light, a pen, its ink into the thin
paper half in white / half shadowed on
this desk with my father’s hinged lid
sometimes lifted for him to score
music even when his wits slipped—outside:
thick gray light, blackish, breaking
morning decades beyond his death, and I
want to reach through and higher, to be shot
with sunlight—I write to annoy fog,
I scribble as if my father is beside me
years and years ago, scoring whole-notes,
white holes through rims of night.
Dr Berlin has been writing a poem about his experience of being a doctor every month for the past 24 years inPsychiatric Times™ the “Poetry of the Times” column. He is instructor in psychiatry, University of Massachusetts Medical School, Worcester, Massachusetts. His latest book is Freud on My Couch.
