Go to your room

I used to wish my
father would die
now I realize that living
is punishment enough

--

April PAD - Poetic Asides Day 8: family

Unsaid

his face droops on the right
though he doesn't know it
he hasn't looked in the mirror
for over a year

of course, when he cocks his head,
as he often does,
staring at the world from a
permanent 2 o'clock tilt

the waterfall of features
is less noticeable

the slope of his eyes and mouth,
melting like Dali's clocks
seem to disappear in some
off-center symmetry

as if this change of perspective
could erase the microscopic clot
that cut his hemispheres
right in two

and my father could no longer
right his crooked smile

---
April PAD Day 20 - what goes unsaid

Last time I looked in the mirror

The last time I looked in the mirror
I saw my father's face
the double chin
the puffy cheeks
the bloated discontent

But the eyes are mine

They see the years of yelling
and trails of tears, but also
the determined jaw
the open heart
the penetrating mind

They see how the mirror lies


---
April PAD Day 13 - last (blank)

6 o'clock

Papa clocked out at 6 p.m.
His inky fingerprints
were all he left behind.

He walked in at 6:14.
His meaty, grease-
stained fingers stroked our faces

and left the indelible stain
of fatherly love
on our faces and hearts.


PAD #9: time of day