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Tuesday, November 19, 2013

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I told father
I wanted my stout legs
to slip into nylons. Miraculously,

he nodded and planted
velvet flags around
the house. The earth

opened, femme fatale. Strangers,
can keep to their sidewalks,
            their filthy eyes and awnings.

I have the sound of my father
laughing in eyeliner, wiping away
his tears with blooming rivers.

Before he died, he waved
his steelyard hand, in prayer
for the Pleiades to watch me in his stead.

He gave me Lou Reed, the strength
of all-weather flesh, and a full heart

to see
and work it.























found this poem from the opening salvo of Dreaming in Satellite, original since removed

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