Algonquin Park 

 

1.  Lake of Two Rivers Campground, 1960

 

Press, press 

the blue rubber bulb, each wheeze 

something

to keep me going. 

I sing songs from school, quiet

in my head,

switch one foot for the other,

press, press again.

 

Just out of sight, the lake

cool, silken water, 

calls, voices of children 

come through the trees

from the beach.

 

Pump, pump and fill

and fill, air mattresses -

for my mother,

for my brother, 

for me, 

for my father, his

long heavy weight.

He sweats,  

over poles , canvas, ropes and pegs,

digs trenches.

 

Mattresses full, my next job -

Put each one carefully

in its place.

Unroll sleeping bags neatly.

Carry in suitcases, lay them down 

where they belong.

​

Mum unpacks, 

picnic cloth, food, Coleman stove, camping plates,

makes supper,

hums to herself,  

swats mosquitoes.

​

My brother too young 

to do much, he

holds tent pegs.

 

The hard pop of a can opener

on a bottle of beer,

my father’s inspections, 

my mother’s voice saying,

Enough.  It’s enough.  

Let them go.