Father of mine

We filled a backpack with beers

And all he needed to say was

“Be safe.”

He knows earnest faces don’t need explaining.

He told us the keys to the van were on the hook

Because he fills the gas tank with the kind of trust 

Only a father would know.

You’d never know that I wasn’t his daughter.

If there’s love here, it’s in the marrow of our broken bones;

We’ll find it when we’re skeletons.