Evan Vandermeer

Palimpsest

Dad would sometimes show off his vocabulary by blurting obscure terms for us to puzzle over—in car rides, at the dinner table, while waiting in lines. Then he’d wait, patiently, and answer whatever yes-or-no questions we could muster to chip away at the word’s definition: Can it be held? Is it desirable? Have we seen it before? 

dark-eyed junco

On the last night I would ever spend with him, we tried watching the first installment of Peter Jackson’s film adaptations of The Lord of the Rings. Fantasy wasn’t his thing, and he’d long refused to watch them with me.

a pinch of snow slips

We made it through an hour of the film before stopping. It was late, so we agreed to finish the next night. He turned off the TV and, without preamble, filled the silence with a word.

into shadow

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About the Author

Evan Vandermeer lives in South Bend, Indiana, where he completed his MA in English at Indiana University South Bend. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Twyckenham Notes, Eunoia Review, Jersey Devil Press, Grand Little Things, MacQueen’s Quinterly, and elsewhere. His haiku and haibun have appeared or are forthcoming in Frogpond, Modern Haiku, Presence, contemporary haibun online, and elsewhere.

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