Shahé Mankerian: Keepsake

In my office, Father’s framed

black and white photo rests 

next to my green Olivetti. 

When I look elsewhere, 

students under scrutiny stroke 

the dusty typewriter with caution 

because he scowls at them 

with his thick eyebrows. 

The fearless force the faded 

alphabet keys to strike the black 

cylinder without paper. 

Fingers tap dance 

as they throw sideway glances. 

A brown-eyed kindergartner 

in a dirty ponytail bangs 

the space bar until she hears 

the ding of the bell. She fiddles 

with the ribbon and asks, 

“Is it dead?” I know 

she means the typewriter, 

but I keep looking at Father.


This poem was published in These Fragile Lilacs Poetry Journal, Volume II, issue II.