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You are frozen in a frame above the mantle.
Your face thin, I notice now; but though it seems
not for the first time.
There are things I want to ask you; when I'm alone
I do. You haven't answered me yet-
this is the first promise you've broken.
It's been too many years for me to keep talking
to ink behind glass.
This photographic love must end.
My sweet memory. I should forget.
I made such silly deals with God:
ReplyDeletean elephant for my father if you please,
three months of chores for my mommy's love,
I'd even learn cursive if only
our family could just stop hurting.
I did learn cursive
but God never really took all the pain.
I still hear whispers of it
in your goodbye kisses and taste it in late night dinners.
He's shrunk so much you know -
Dad never seem so thin when I was seven
urgently pleading life into that photo.
Wasn't he tall and handsome?
But your photographic love is my father.
It's proud of me when I get good grades
and still STILL holds my hand when I cross the street.
When I need him I always know to look in you.
You can't forget.
If you do, who will read me Dr. Seuss
and guide me through too many cars
and too many streets?
Ah, sweet girl. I don't know if I wanted you to find this blog. But I'm glad you did.
ReplyDeleteYou know, I hope, that you never have to make deals for my love. That has always been free and I couldn't hold back even if I wanted to. I've never wanted to.
I love you with all of my heart.
~Mom
not deals for YOUR love, but for your Love. You know, Dad. Your lover. Anyways, I found it when I googled my name a few days ago, but I haven't read anything besides the poem. So post with freedom and I won't read unless you invite me to (even via facebook)
ReplyDeleteYes, I understand.
ReplyDeleteRead away. But sign your name on your comments :)