By Jason Heroux
We carried chairs with us everywhere we went. Distant music played in the air. Birds sang in the trees. The river babbled in its bed. If the music stopped we had to sit. I was lucky, my chair was a lightweight plastic patio piece, easy to move. My father carried a heavy wooden rocking chair. He struggled with every step. The last time I saw him he’d been dead two years, but still looked the same. The music never stopped.
Jason Heroux is currently the Poet Laureate for the city of Kingston, Ontario. His most recent book is the novel Amusement Park of Constant Sorrow (Mansfield Press, 2018).
MoonPark Review 