He Did The Tiles Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

He did the tiles
in the kitchen
my dad
on hands and knees
knew those tiles
close up
knew them better
than he knew me

they are stern
like him
full of
school latin,
evensong,
chapel and
bomber squadron

he got it wrong
wouldn't listen
to jumped up
baby boomers
start in the middle!
don't start at the edge!
a great one
for rulers
the edge it is...

I look now at the
uneven gaps
between the tiles
how it began
with that fatal flaw
and I wonder

did he see,
to the sound
of engine drone
a patchwork
of snow-white fields
through
the aeroplane floor?

Now he's gone
the middle of nowhere
is my home
but when all is
said and done
he showed me
how to get back
from where I had come