an old writer and his words

  • UNDER THE BED

    There was a ghostor two for a short while,that lived under my bedwhen I was three or four. My mother said theywere not real, she couldn’tsee them when she looked,so they were all in my mind. I had to tell her that youdon’t ever actually see ghosts,you just know they are therebecause you sense their…

    Lou Faber

  • WETLAND BRAVADO

    He was the smallest, thatis what drew you to him.Still, he had a certain bravadoa serious strut to his walk.Perhaps it was becausehis father was there, a protectorin part, in another part a challenge.He knew his mother was lookingso it became a matter of pride.He could imagine himselfa father one day, his own childrentrailing behind…

    Lou Faber

  • WITH KNOWING

    With knowledge comes somethingbut I cannot remember whatmy mother told me it was, orperhaps it was a teacherwho said it, but I can’t hopeto tell which one it was, Icannot remember someof their names or in what gradeit might have been said.I don’t think it was in collegeor graduate school since by thenit was assumed…

    Lou Faber

  • OF A WOMAN

    I wasn’t born a woman,I cannot bear a child,I cannot carry a fetus nine monthsI cannot feel the morning sickness,I cannot nurse a child once born,I cannot cease to be who I ambecause I had a child,I cannot be raped and made pregnant,I cannot be subject incestmaking me pregnant,I cannot go through the pains of…

    Lou Faber

  • SAINTS AND SINNERS

    I am a distant grandchildof saints and Herod,kings and lords, andVisigoths for good measure. That half of me iswoven of ever thinnerbranches on a treethat threatens to topplefrom the lightnessof its other side, rootsdeep in the rich soilof Lithuania, the rootshitting bedrock, andthe branches stuntedand there a simpleAshkenazi Jew.

    Lou Faber

  • A MOMENT

    It is 1952, April, and Iam handed to the woman.I am wrapped in a thin blanket,the tall man is standing beside her.I do not recall this, but thisis how it must have happened,she finally a mother, hea father despite infertility.I do not recall her, the womanwho perhaps never held meonce I exited her body, whohid…

    Lou Faber

  • GO TO YOUR ROOM

    When a petulant childacts out badly, a parentwill send the childto a corner, to his room,for a “time out”the duration of whichdepends on the child’soffense and demeanor. What are we to dowhen the child hasno parents, answersto no one, even his adultchildren, where can we,the observers go, whatcan we do except cringein horror knowing thischild…

    Lou Faber

  • DO AS I SAY

    Eat your vegetables,Don’t ever run with scissors,Clean your room,Always wear clean underwear,Comb your hair every morning,Always say please and thank you,Always listen to adults, they know more,Be nice to animals and small children,Clean your room,Don’t go in the water for an hour after eating,Polish your shoes,Don’t play with sticks, you could put an eye out,Clean…

    Lou Faber

  • SHEEPISH

    As a child, when Ihad trouble falling asleepmy mother would trot outthe ancient saw and tell meto just count sheep. I tried to point outto her that we livedin an upscale suburband there were no sheepfor miles for me to count. This hardly deterred herand she repeated herdirections, in a strongertone of voice that she…

    Lou Faber

  • LIFE, ABBREVIATION

    Arrival noted, 11:30 P.M.delivery normal, babyprepared for agency, motherreleased in two days, babyto foster care, thento adoptive parents. No memories, save one,a fall, bathroom, headbleeding, black and whitefloor tile, radiator harderthan child’s skull. Now 70, the same person,a lying mirror each day,a small cemetery, WestVirginia, a headstonea mother finally,a life of mourning.

    Lou Faber