Wednesday, April 17, 2013

That Thing Poets Do In April: 16/30

No one has every met my father
But they know OF my father
They have shook his hand
Reading the story of his palm
A record read

Never seen his smile
But know his laugh
As a baby's cry
Not everyone hears
And thinks

Never seen his heart
Kept in his jacket
Or wrapped around his fingers
Shoulder to the wheel
Heels dug in
Tough love
Careful not to crush hope

Never seen his emotion
It's written in mathematics

10 Wades
4 Girls
3 Boys
2 Lovers
1 Clan

A legacy that legions are made of
Made from
The ever present existence
Of my father

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