In Memory of Jim Cooney
You waited to die
Until my brothers and I could stand
Beside your bed, the killer within silently,
slowly devouring all that had been you.
Michael, the youngest, so like you--
His face a mirror of your own,
The gruff farmer, fisherman, hunter, father
Who took you for one last spin in your Lonestar boat--
Took your hand in his,
reaching between bottles and IV tubes
And told stories.
Michael kept the laughter
In his voice, refusing the tears
That lapped in waves against the room.
His stories echoed the memories in your eyes.
He told hunting stories--
Remember the turkeys--two with one barrel of shot.
Another year--two deer--one behind the other
For the price of one bullet.
He told fishing stories--
Catching fish that couldn't be caught,
A thousand things thought impossible.
I guess you didn't know
Since you did them anyway.
You did everything in duplicate
Dual systems in your boat,
Two of each nut tree in the yard,
Backup switches here and there,
Double outlets and backup lights.
You were good at getting two
For the price of one.
I wonder if you knew
How much Mike resembled you.
He could not wear the suit you left behind,
A perfect fit though made for you.
Michael looked in the mirror,
Wearing your suit. The image in the mirror was you
A double so perfect that Mike didn't know himself.
But we don't need the suit to look at him and see you.
We're glad you did everything
In duplicate.
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