Father
FATHER
His sinewy hands as strong as lion’s
Hold close wobbly me like trellises
Wet sun shone through latticework mangled by harsh wind
In the stormy night we were soaked
Rain came down like maggots
I slept under his wakeful eyes.
Juice trickled from his tissues
My fingers awoke in contentment
To suck his rocky skin with my sisters
We felt like fireside cats.
He died fifty years old.
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