Page 7 - Contrast1992Spring
P. 7
Nunuse
"I'm gonna bore a hole He held it between his two fingers.
And I don ,t kn ow wehre ..." I'd never felt a thing.
One sun-red arm held me tight
Against the big man's knee. As he left our house,
"I guess I'm gonna bore it Going home to Grammy,
Right in there!" He reached to the peg
He tickled the hole For his black and white baseball cap
Into my toddler's stomach. Trying it on first on my head
I screamed and squealed. Then on his own.
He smelled like sawdust, dill pickles, "Behave yourself," he warned,
And Old Spice aftershave "You little nuisance."
In his dark green work shirt. "No!" I demanded, grabbing his leg.
I pulled his suspender back - "You the Nunuse! You the Nunuse!"
Back an unheard distance. He became the Nunuse
I waited breathless. For life; even today
Would I let go? On his eightieth birthday
Beneath his thinning white hair, He is the Nunuse.
Behind his black-rimmed glasses,
His blue eyes never blinked as
He caught the elastic strap,
Padding his chest with a weathered
hand.
"Got your nose," he cried.
Lisa Windsor
7
