Remembering Dad on Father's Day

Sask Pool Six

Dad and I drove down to Pool Six,
an elevator on the shoreline.
He last punched the clock here
a young graindust lunged husband
with a few month old son.

Pool Six is abandoned,
"The grain just isn't moving East anymore."
We are here for used railway ties--
useless, replaced, black tar smelling.
My dad wants the spider highways
to build a retaining wall.

While he loads his back on the truck
I wander towards charcoal clouds
and a grey building slumped against Pool Six
where a ghost watches me from behind a window
that reflects the passing sun.

Familiar from a black and white
tries to speak through
old glass that reveals and suppresses
everything but my guess
facing the wind off the lake
that blows elsewhere.

Marina Park (Elevators), Augie Wood, 1988