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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Home Movie

A dark spice
seeing my daughters
in home movies,
three and five
in a park with falling snow.
And there I am
as if wondering who that ghost is
watching us.
He sees through me
in the movie.
Mary is somewhere in the background.
The evening is thickening.
Sandusky’s courthouse looms
like a sand castle
in back of us.

Catherine and Missy pose
in their flowery coats of plaid.
Several weeks away is Christmas
if I recall correctly.
Then the clip ends.
The screen goes white.
I wanted a few more seconds,
to see us walking through the park,
while some universe held us together.
A place where we are,
where we touch each other
and nothing ends,
or needs to.

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