Dreaming of the Dead
May 30th, 2007 by 
Maureen McHugh
They are a busy lot, the dead.
They show up in darkened cities or work
or at my son’s high school cafeteria.
Years after his bad heart, arteries
silted, vast stretches of muscle
scarred and barren, finally quit—my father
wears a lime green polo shirt
his glasses held together by scotch tape.
He carries his bowling bag,
not as if it contained sins–
his vodka martinis
his string of one night stands
–but his blue marbled bowling ball
a little like Earth from space
except for three insistent finger holes
that say this is not a metaphor.
He seems pleased enough to see me.
I can’t think of what to say.
He is not about me. He never was.
Posted in Daily Life, Maureen | 
9 Comments »
May 31st, 2007 at 7:34 am
Wow.
Wow.
[sitting and thinking]
May 31st, 2007 at 9:27 am
Dammit, and you can write poetry, too? Sigh, we’re not worthy.
May 31st, 2007 at 9:39 am
The only problem with posting a poem is, well, not much to say back. Maybe another poem. Haiku. Whatever.
But it was Wednesday, and well, it was all I had.
Caroline, I intend to sell out and leave fiction for the lucrative world of poetry any day now. I’m tired of struggling in a low paying field. I want the big money.
May 31st, 2007 at 10:25 am
For some reason I’ve been having a lot of zombie dreams for the last two weeks which made for a really odd frisson when I read your poem.
It’s a great poem but I really expected them to say something about “brains!” any minute. Or the bowling bag was going to be full of brains.
May 31st, 2007 at 10:30 am
Or maybe the bowling ball has her dad’s brain in it…shades of “Mystery Men.”
May 31st, 2007 at 10:38 am
Ohhhh, Bowling With Zombies!
Of course, that makes it sound like you grab a zombie and sling it down the alley.
May 31st, 2007 at 12:03 pm
I’m bettin’ a bowling ball, heaved down a hallway full of shufflin’ zombies, would do a world of good.
May 31st, 2007 at 12:04 pm
Is the picture a family one, or generic?
May 31st, 2007 at 2:19 pm
That’s my grandmother, and my father, Martin, is on the right, with his hands in her lap.
I guess it was taken around 1920.