Dad
he was like me, once
i saw proof of it
in photo albums
on walls of old apartments
and when he gained weight
and shaved his head
he looked exactly like me
i trace the newly colored pictures
of him standing proudly
in new york city
i know he was suffering
i know what happened then
he must have memories of this
he must remember something
and then there are photos
where he’s a little kid
he looks just like my baby brother
i can’t bear to open
the small black envelopes
i cannot look at his innocent face
and wonder where along the way
it had been broken
Copyright © March Archer | Year Posted 2023
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