Poetry By Melissa Joplin Higley

       Tim Vrtiska CC




Poems from First Father

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2.

I believed, for more than 30 years,
you were drunk when you died,

careless: your tractor trailer careening
off the Loma bridge. I was wrong.

A minor miscalculation, then
a 100-foot drop, a railroad track.

I didn’t know you. I barely belonged
to you. I believe you held me only once.

If I’m wrong, don’t tell me.



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3.

Your heart survived the fall,
at first, held fast within
its cracked bone cage. Who
felt the final delicate beat?
Who measured what was left?

How we forget the ways
a heart can break--
tender red pear,
overwhelmed.




4.

she told me last spring / what was left of you
forty-three years ago / after us / when you were
better / sober / working / larger than life / turns out
you were more / you / than before she took
my place / I pretend I’m her / the other daughter
from the other wife / I pretend / I’m the one
you’re teaching / to play piano / sitting
next to you / on the bench / the one / feeling
your fingers / guiding / to the right keys / mine

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Melissa Joplin Higley’s poems appear, or are forthcoming, in Feral, The Night Heron Barks, Writer’s Digest, MER, For A Friend anthology (Lucent Dreaming, June 2023), and elsewhere.. She holds an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College and co-facilitates the Poetry Craft Collective. She lives in Mamaroneck, NY with her husband and son. Visit her at: melissajoplinhigley.com.
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