(After he fired.)
 
God bless your solid ground.
God bless those rolling hills.
Bless your forgotten mow,
bless your wild weeds
cradling all sixteen
freshly fatherless kids
praying on their knees.

Please bless their holy
earthquake tremble.
I want you to know
I break open sometimes too.

My therapist asks me
“Are you crying because
you never got to know him?”
I shake too
because I know I did,
because I do.