Disobedience
Walking across a well-lit stage
I command my sequined graduation cap
stay perched up there!
I instruct my feet,
Don’t stumble!
Gripping my Bachelor’s Degree
I recall the gruff,
Bronx-accented voice of my dad
dead now
Forty years ago I received
his high school graduation directive
“daughters ‘ain’t fer college,
‘git a husband, ‘git children.”
Today my father stands on the edge
of a Heavenly cloud,
hands on hips,
grinning at me
I done it anyway dad.
What you ‘tink ‘bout ‘dat?
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