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.