Super

A Polack they called Mr. Rock,
Captain of the 3280 vessel,
Fixer of stopped up sinks, trimmer of hedge,
Rent collector.

To us a fixture, like some old cellar pipe,
Indestructible.
The day the furnace exploded, spewing steam
He emerged, blackened, bruised, silent, unbent.

A stern chisel of a man, and yet
He shaped of rifle for me
From some some old cast off board.
A beautiful thing, smooth to touch.

Then, without notice, he died.
Alex, his son, in Navy blues,
Stood solid by the door
Shaking hands,
Continuing the line of stone.