Robin

last night i dreamt of my father:
his face so close it chimed like a bell

i wanted to reach out, but remembering the rules i looked
the other way, into the subtle folds of his sadness,
where grace held triumphantly its shameful cup
and the days were equally marked by too much work

through him i learned that time seeds like moonlight
casting shadow upon shadow-all, wrapped in one intensity
it is the glue of bandaids holding us together
and keeping us all locked tight

in my dream i saw a black cat try to cross a highway:
this was my father's childhood
a mouth entered and every second breathing
a language, caressed by the tongues of silence

my father's leg, paralysed by diabetes
that old stick-in-the-mud who said yes
too often like a baby, i wanted more "no"
he looks at me, passing my inheritance
while clutching it fiercely, like a beggar
i wanted so desperately for him to walk
so i could take him out into the park
and we could fly kites written

what poetry is this, where grammar is so inarticulate?

i woke up and circled my feet like wings beating.
the day was sunny,
so bright that twenty-six years open
in front of me like a moth

Feb 27 2004 - Dec 4 1977

sometimes love requires locks

Am I to be kept out for all time? - the premiere question of ontology and romance.