Poetry

136. the absent father

p_cold coffee, colder memory

Sons
will keep the memory of you
like marrow in their bones,
shielded and shut tightly
from the light.

Daughters
will braid your scent into their long hairs
and forgetting you run about the garden,
while ribbons come undone absolving them
from  your sad heritage.

 You will soar upwards into spring
from within their flowing locks and broken bones,
as you pass through every new cell
created in your absence –

they will know your presence only
as that which is kept hidden,
that which is lost.

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