I Didn't See His Face
when his wife called him at work –
I've been in an accident and I'm upside down.
Some who don't know him
have said he has a mean face.
They prefer a smiling mask
to the honesties of silence and quiet action.
They've never watched him hustle back
the soccer field, his head slightly forward,
leaning into his will to be there.
I picture him like this – running
through the woods to his wife,
running in button-down shirt and slacks,
running head-first into flashing lights,
just so she would know
he was there.
Lisa Meserole teaches music and movement to young children in Connecticut. Her poems have appeared in various journals, including Connecticut River Review, Green Hills Literary Lantern, Earth's Daughters, and Shot Glass Journal. In 2017, she was an Edwin Way Teale Writer-In-Residence at Trail Wood, sponsored by the Connecticut Audubon Society, and a participant at Stowe Story Labs in Stowe, Vermont for her screenplay entitled The Jazz Bird, about a young mockingbird who searches for the musical soulmate of his ancestors.