untitled
Once a year I get to reflect
on all I’ve ever known a man to be.
Which is to say absolutely nothing.
I am fatherlessly fathered.
I remember whose freckles I have.
Whose clenched fist and rolled tongue.
My fatherless Father’s Day
is the elephant in my therapy chart.
My Freudian slip.
That daddy kink I have yet
to develop fully.
I grieve a life
not yet complete.
I grieve a life
I’ll never have
and perhaps
always deserved.
An ambiguous mourning
walking herself down an aisle.
Imagine a holiday,
exactly for that.
3 thoughts on "untitled"
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This poem knocked me out! Thank you.
“An ambiguous mourning…” – ouch, in a very good way. This is powerful; thank you for sharing it.
the barest truth is that all our holidays and remembrances leave out almost as many as they include.