Two Old Men Sitting on a Park Bench Discussing Death and Smiling
Abigail Fitzpatrick | Poetry, Spring 2025
One is leaning toward the other,
spotted hand on the back of the bench
the other on his walker, silver metal
heating in the sun. Beagles with their
long snouts trot by, and leaves
begin to drop like shedding skins
after August sunburn. Few have yet had
the chance to golden and crisp, some
falling green and primal. The oldest man,
voice sifting through sunlight, begins:
when I die, and the other accepts
the soft elegy, content and patient.
They pause to look up at every passerby,
smile, say hello, and they breathe so calmly,
as though they’ve already forgiven themselves,
forgiven everyone, for everything.
________________________________________________________________________
Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?
“Two Old Men” is my Trace Fossil because it reminds me of animism; the World and all her living things carry light and life simultaneously, naturally, equally. The old men, the trees and their leaves, the beagles, those passing by are all gorgeously important, as it is so in life.
I witnessed this one day I felt particularly alone and awful about it, and hearing two older men feel so comfortable discussing something so vulnerable with one another truly turned me toward the sun. I hope this poem turns its readers toward the sun.”
Abigail G. Fitzpatrick is a writer from the village of Hopwood, Pennsylvania. She lectures at University of North Carolina, Greensboro Campus. She writes in hopes to make creative writing accessible and enjoyable for people from all education and economic backgrounds. She also writes for her mother, who has the spirit and curiosity of a poet, and the most golden heart.
Two Old Men Sitting on a Park Bench Discussing Death and Smiling
Abigail Fitzpatrick | Poetry, Spring 2025
One is leaning toward the other,
spotted hand on the back of the bench
the other on his walker, silver metal
heating in the sun. Beagles with their
long snouts trot by, and leaves
begin to drop like shedding skins
after August sunburn. Few have yet had
the chance to golden and crisp, some
falling green and primal. The oldest man,
voice sifting through sunlight, begins:
when I die, and the other accepts
the soft elegy, content and patient.
They pause to look up at every passerby,
smile, say hello, and they breathe so calmly,
as though they’ve already forgiven themselves,
forgiven everyone, for everything.
__________________________________________
Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?
“Two Old Men” is my Trace Fossil because it reminds me of animism; the World and all her living things carry light and life simultaneously, naturally, equally. The old men, the trees and their leaves, the beagles, those passing by are all gorgeously important, as it is so in life.
I witnessed this one day I felt particularly alone and awful about it, and hearing two older men feel so comfortable discussing something so vulnerable with one another truly turned me toward the sun. I hope this poem turns its readers toward the sun.”
Abigail G. Fitzpatrick is a writer from the village of Hopwood, Pennsylvania. She lectures at University of North Carolina, Greensboro Campus. She writes in hopes to make creative writing accessible and enjoyable for people from all education and economic backgrounds. She also writes for her mother, who has the spirit and curiosity of a poet, and the most golden heart.