There’s a deep hole waiting for you, father.
The earth will embrace you as I could not.
She’ll protect you eternally from your fears
of the mistake you made in the madness of flesh
in a grotty room on the Boulevard de la Madeleine.
It was so much easier to tolerate the child
than love the monster you made her.
We’ve all been so thoroughly fathered.
Yours hung you off a balcony and threatened
to drop you if payment was not forthcoming.
Mine didn’t even ask for money, he released me
to the wind while standing on the ledge
of losing of some ancient argument.
No one remembers what it was about, now.
For fear of losing face, we blithely dispose
of our entirety, any possible accord
relinquished with the family bathwater
in a triumphant moment of contempt.
Father, time’s pride has caught you
in her talons and will not let you go.
Just as surely as I must.