My Father鈥檚 Comb
by Michael Waters
When my mother insisted
聽 That I take something,
聽 聽 聽His 5鈥� aluminum Life-Time
Already outlined my back pocket鈥�
聽 The comb I鈥檇 watched him ply
聽 聽 聽How many thousand mornings
To rake his hair straight back
聽 While I waited my turn
聽 聽 聽Before the bathroom mirror.
I wielded a 39垄 Ace hard rubber
聽 With a dab of Brylcreem
聽 聽 聽To slick my mop before school,
But for years now I鈥檝e run his comb,
聽 As he did, under the cold-water tap,
聽 聽 Then dragged across my scalp
Only the shorter tines
聽 Of the guillotine-shaped
聽 聽 Tool of vanity & work ethic.
Please take something, she鈥檇 said,
聽 My father three days dead, but
聽 聽 I鈥檇 already nabbed the one object
I knew I鈥檇 touch each day
聽 In such casual ritual
聽 聽 To comb the grief away.
Writing 鈥淢y Father鈥檚 Comb鈥� was a more formal ritual than the one described in the poem. The staggered lines in each tercet may suggest the diminishing length of tines along the 鈥済uillotine-shaped鈥� comb. My father died thirty years ago. The plaque above his cremains in the veteran鈥檚 cemetery in Florida reads 鈥淗e was a good guy.鈥� I still use his comb on my thinning hair.
has published thirteen books of poetry, most recently Caw, The Dean of Discipline, and Celestial Joyride. His next book, Sinnerman (Etruscan Press), will appear in 2023. He has co-edited several anthologies, including Border Lines: Poems of Migration, Reel Verse: Poems 91社区 the Movies, Contemporary American Poetry, and Perfect in Their Art: Poems on Boxing from Homer to Ali. His poems have appeared in POETRY, The American Poetry Review, The Paris Review, The Yale Review, Kenyon Review, and Rolling Stone. He is the recipient of five Pushcart Prizes and fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation, National Endowment for the Arts, Fulbright Foundation, and New Jersey State Council on the Arts. Waters lives without a cell phone in Ocean, New Jersey.