babygirl 1.

 

 

 

   No.

   Fathers don't walk out on little girls.

   Not before they have the chance to smell

   funky bottoms or strong underarms,

   not before they hear a clean, dirty joke,

   not before they get a meanigful, big hug,

   Not before they dance on shoetops

   waltzing into iron spring,

   Not before they learn that men

   must first be de-mistified;

   Not before she perpares her

   soul for giving.

 

 

   When my daughter would take her hand

   and force it into mine,

   undiscerning the saccharin

   of scars,

   she could make me personal,

   not a cycle of nightshade;

   make me clutch the wheel,

   the ferris,

   the wooden horse that rides

   into circular sunshine.

 

 

   Picture that,

   Me,

   Petrous, brave poet,

   Phallocratic in advancing worship.

   He who makes rat-a-tat

   sounds with his tongue

   to mimic solar winds,

   plaid senseless,

   like a old  engine

   that won't quit,

   Solicitous as golden coins

   but planchet

   before the stamp of currency

 

   is an upside down turtle

   when she holds her spoon.

Reviews

[Emily B]

and somehow i found my hand in yours so thankful for golden coins and circular sunshine, so easy to picture that