Friday, June 5, 2015


february 2, 1926

my father’s birthday
I didn’t know for the longest time
I didn’t care or I preferred not to care
who was he
unloved as I was
unfound as I was
my father’s birthday
I sleepwalked for the longest time
when he died the world was dismantling
who he was
how he softened
amongst the most frightening
I didn’t know it for the longest time
caring and sharing had no sweet reprieve
who he was
who I loved
was mine for the  undertaking
I sleepwalked for the longest time
my father’s birthday
like butter now melted
still had the source
from which it is was drawn
I am clarified now in the house
I have crawled from
a rarified mouse in a kindly rat kingdom
I sleepwalk from birth
hate the markers of age
the memory of worth the scent of the rage
my father’s birthday
has a name  has a date
the second of February
am I too late?

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