riddled my temporary
sanitary-mindset.
In the blankets,
pressed against my young skin,
I used to ask for him.
In all her sainthood,
leaning against her bed,
my mother promised me bigger skies.
In her calmest voice
she soothed the aches
of my love, which was met
with unexpected visitation.
and tomorrowless apologies.
I listened to a day without rain,
the hums of a softer person
showed me the brighter planets
outlined in glow tape
on the ceiling of my childhood room.
Telling me he missed me
wrinkled out the worry
pressed so firmly
on my abandoned chest.
Pressed so hard,
I reluctantly accepted.
And he wonders why
in the Spring of my life,
I refuse to accept his phone calls,
And in the Fall of my life,
I'll refuse him privileges a father earns.
And in the Winter of his life,
Maybe he'll recall
he had a daughter,
before anything else.
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