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Our poet writes, “My name is Katherine Davis and I am a junior at Endicott College. I am a film and television major, with a minor in creative writing. Currently I am taking Poetry with Professor Sklar, the class in which I wrote the poem George about my late grandfather. I took up poetry writing as a hobby a little over a year ago, and I have found I am most often inspired by the people I am closest to.”

George

Katherine Davis

He is cigarettes
The rumble of a bar filled with old Irish men.
He is flowers in a field
After a heavy rain
He is a green pull out couch
Metal that prods through a thinning cushion.
He is hospitals, a rooftop, and cold danish pastries
He is ice cream sundaes, no nuts–
Chocolate fudge and traded cherries.
He is my favorite book
A note in the margins
He is a city with smokey sidewalks and spotty sun.
He is the beach by the water in a blue bucket hat
He is a white t-shirt, white sheets, powdered donuts–
He is the victory of a card game
Watching E.T.
And riding a bicycle for the third time.
He is dentures in a cup, green mouthwash
And a shiny wooden hairbrush for a shiny bald head.
He is bags of laundry and quarters tinged with age
He is pacemakers and pill bottles and
Something strange in a jar on the hutch.
He is never quite saying goodbye, warm ginger-ale, and glasses perched
At the end of your nose.
He is bacon and sundays and milkshakes.
He is glasses of milk with ice cubes.
He is cigarette smoke that lingers outside the old Irish bar

— Katherine Davis

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