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07/26/11 - (1)
Home Movies
You and I are intrigued, elated, watching a VHS cassette My oldest sister edited, from a hodgepodge of faded-yellow boxes Closeted in the basement of our mother's home, for ages —
Rapidly passing scenes being alchemized, in your new converter, From degrading analog tape to digitalized disc, Spliced slices of 8mm antics encapsulating a decade of epiphanies
Comprising the 1940s archive labeled "Brodsky Family Movies," A collection consisting of vacations to Florida, Wisconsin, Michigan, Birthday parties, Easter-egg hunts, Christmas festivities,
The early days following the births of the first three children, Highlighting crib time, crawling, the awkward beginning of steps, The metamorphosis from baby-stasis to autonomous being,
All of which, for a few rapt hours, captivates, fascinate the two of us, Keep us immersed in the staccato elapsing of ten years, Focused on tow-headed me, growing through perpetually frenetic motions,
The mischievous little mazik, as my dad called me... The now-seventy-year-old poet, with a full head of still-curly silver hair, Relaxing beside you, on the den sofa of your "empty nest" home,
Both of us unable to contain our amazement, disbelief, At how spectacularly fast the transformation has happened, How much nearer to completion than commencement our lives are.
And as the tape's silent black-and-white/color episodes conclude, We linger, holding tight to each other, in loving embrace, As if, somehow, we might keep youth in play forever.
07/26/11 - (1)
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