I Want to Walk Backwards

Into my father’s voice
Those stories

He told endlessly
Of his childhood chums
And their tragic events

The horseshoe crushing a boy’s shoulder
The submerged tree in the river
The exploding pack of cherry bombs
Many hunting accidents

Most of all
I loved his silence in church
At night
In the middle of a frozen Omaha January
And that one unstoppable sentence

It’s not often Jack you get to talk to God