Modern Poetry for the Old Soul

 “The Russian Greatcoat” by Theodore Deppe

While my children swim off the breakwater,

while my wife sleeps beside me in the sun,

I recall how you once said you knew

a sure way to paradise or hell.

Years ago, you stood on the Covington bridge,

demanded I throw my coat into the Ohio-

my five dollar “Russian greatcoat,”

my “Dostoevsky coat,” with no explanations,

simply because you asked.

 

From the height, the man-sized coat fell

in slow motion, floated briefly,

one sinking arm bent at the elbow.

At first I evade the question when my wife asks,

as if just thinking of you were a act of betrayal.

The cigarette I shared with you above the river,

our entrance into the city, your thin black coat

around both our shoulders.  Sometimes I can go

weeks without remembering.