a short poem about a novel I read
a long time ago (without going back to check)
The memories are pretty fuzzy –
A history professor returns home
to visit a sick, elderly uncle who taught him
all about hunting and tracking wild game
when he was but a boy.
He has a young wife who doesn’t understand
the connection between the hunt
for one and the hunt for the other –
a different incompatibility
In seeking to make sense of it all he uncovers
some old game he’d rather not have
from a deep and distant, unknowable past.
His wife is unsympathetic and his uncle is dying
and a hidden family secret reveals itself.
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