You were the villain, the plot point. I bad
mouthed you, Rotten Papa. You were flammable
fuel in my tank. A maggot writhing
in my Red Delicious. Like a lawyer
I kept a folding file of your deficiencies. In a small
country hospital you slipped into a coma, your head
tilted down & to the left, mouth
half open. I touched
your hand. Out of my astonished silence
came, thank you for my life.
I learn from maggots. They drop out
out of an apple, burrow
into soil for a winter, then grow
tiny wings and fly away.