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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368745" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Straight in His Caneback Chair</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368745" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Ireland to America, long ago<br> <br>In this Kerryman's eyes<br>big ships sail<br>and lighthouses flicker<br>light years away.<br>He's 70 today and sits <br>tombstone straight<br>in his caneback chair, <br>waves at a flake<br>hanging from his nose, <br>misses and curses.<br>It's his first curse of the day<br>and he's ready for anything, <br>an ancient ram braced for the British<br>climbing through the mist.<br>His children, parents themselves now, <br>sit in his parlor, silent around him.<br>When they hear his first curse, <br>they know it's 20 years earlier<br>and Father is calling<br>a meeting of the family.<br>They shift in their chairs<br>as his eyes and his words<br>whiz around the room<br>like bees liquored up<br>looking for something to sink into.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Donal+Mahoney">Donal Mahoney</a></strong></div>