Tag: dadpoems

Dream of a Father

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with a line from Kathy Acker

You wouldn’t have a child who couldn’t swim. You were dead-set,
damned sure of this. Until I left home I thought you simply chose
states of being, this one of them—

 

You shaved your beard completely, finally, in Massachusetts.

You drove off a bridge in a storm and held your pet rabbit up until
help arrived in Massachusetts.

You held the cage up, and when it flooded, the rabbit.

You taught me to touch the cold gem of Massachusetts in my mind
to make sure I still had it, like a coin in my pocket.

 

My idea of you was so sparse and childish it turned out
to be a good estimation.

Because he’s alone, a sailor’s always telling himself who he is.

Rolf

·

I.

My brother calls me Liesl all
through winter /

precipitating / the month our
mother kills a tuna

in the sink / thimbles garlic /
antivivisectionist / remaining

eldest / wrap the fish in foil /
take a vitamin every day this

year / my beautiful father left
to stop the war / my captain /

my prow / my ocean ending /
my open rain rolling yard

down / his shadow touching
the estate / my brother in the

kitchen deep / tempering
dough with ice water / fill me

with ice water / put a tuna
steak frozen on your tongue /

bear it / whistling / you
would never fire that gun

II.

Dear Rolf / stop /

I needle a new sweater / knit
clenching in the purple dark

/ don’t stop / I don’t know
what I ever saw in you

/ Dear Rolf /

salt me / don this /

III.

I teach my brother oysters /
will you remember his name

my father rips a flag down
from the balcony / a big party

/ tall always / taller /
decorated with tassels

pale slips / coming in from
the storm / why can’t you

hear me / little shells of them
flattening / hand in the

water / I listen to singing in Swiss
mountains / black circles

getting slicker / he thinks I will be
married / but he doesn’t know

—

Thanks to The Atlas Review.