Frankétienne, Pedro e Indran en Port-au-Prince
He is his own man now;
decides for himself what
to download on his phone,
how much family he can
take, and when, before retiring
to his summer Floridian pad
where he can spread brushes
and palette on the desk and
fingers on piano keys
in the living room. My son
who writes grand, detailed
stories via email and schedules
his day to include 30 minutes
to eat, bed by 10, and
thou shalt not to alcohol,
who saw his grand dad
in his cups, whose dad
drove, a maniac, through
early infancy, “Mummy:
Daddy. Car. Boom, Boom.”
In retrospect I did not
realize the injury I would
leave in memory. He is
quick to advise me to leave
my phone on the side
and not to eat and drive.
He drives himself now,
and acknowledges
in philosophy the exception
that proves the rule
as he sips water or juice
when in need, practical
and careful, devoted
and marking his own
path as artist and man,
painter of dreams, pianist,
bearer of father’s genes
in a profile identical
to his half sister’s,
writing this poem down.
Indran Amirthanayagam, July 16, 2016
We are with our teachers as in the photo with Franketienne. My son has now become one of mine. Indran
Absolutely yes, dear Indran
Best,