Fall 2007
September 18, 1970
Dad has me pause for the
camera,
pose in my red dress, knee highs
fallen into anklets. Smile, he says.
But my mind’s a swirl. Marianne,
Daphne and the two Lisas race
through my yard. And there’s
a bright stack of presents I’m not
to tear into before the cake, the song.
Elsewhere, a guy in clothes more
flowing than my simple A-line,
parties too. He’s reimagined
guitar; taught it to wail; ignited
even the national anthem. Only
now, sirens keen as he chokes
on fluids from his own throat,
excuses himself, kisses the sky.
Ona Gritz studied
poetry in the Graduate Creative Writing program at New York University.
Her second book for children, Tangerines and Tea: My Grandparents and
Me (Harry N. Abrams), was named Best Alphabet Book of 2005 by Nick Jr.
Family Magazine. Her poetry has been published in Paterson Literary
Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Moment, The American Voice, Poetry East,
and many other print and online journals including Literary Mama where
she is also a columnist. She is the winner of the 2007 Inglis House
Poetry Contest. Her chapbook of poems, Left Standing, was released in
2005 by Finishing Line Press.
When I was in college, I saw a poster
of Jimi Hendrix that gave his birth and death dates. The fact that he
died on my eighth birthday has haunted me since. I had no awareness of
him or his music until I was in my teens and I’m sure that at eight,
like all young children on their birthdays, I was focused on my party
and presents and the fact that the day belonged to me.