To My Father

For years the only comparison named
was the pinky finger.
Until blood tests could confirm,
it was the pinky finger,
mine exactly like yours even as a newborn,
that stood as paternity marker.
When the more scientific proof came,
no one was shocked, though everywhere scandal traced
what the two of you had done, and not done.
My skin and bones just the beginning.


Seven weeks ago I met your (other) children,
my siblings, for the first time. And I met nieces and nephews,
two face to face, others through pictures or memories shared.
We all have the same nose and wide smile. And there's something
reminiscent of fire in all of us, even your only son
who is patient, quiet and gentle but neverthless a power in his own rite.


Sometimes I want the dead to be alive,
but only in the way we, the living, can envision you, the departed, among us.
Present and watchful, subject to feeling but unable to fuck anything else up.


I wanted you to be dead but watching in the moment
he, your only son, my long lost brother
said my name outloud, looked me in the eyes, took me into his arms
and held me which you...you...
were unable to do before taking leave of me,
taking leave of us who now gather around your choices
like pilgrims and conscientious objectors
with only chards of glass and petals of devotion
to make sense of at our feet.


I want you to be dead but watching
in the moment my child is born. Grandchild number five,
bone of your bone, flesh of your flesh, will come this Spring
in addition to Heidi, Bret, Luke and Elise.
And then, father-of-mine, when I arrive where you are
a long time from now, I want you to tell me what it was like to watch me,
the daughter you never knew, the daughter you deserted,
have faith enough in this life, despite everything that could have stripped me of it,
breathe and breathe and breathe and push and push and push
y/our blood line through another generation.


If, even there and then, you cannot love me
with embodied things like language, gesture, embrace
please know that this baby is already forgiving you
from the inside in ways I could not have foreseen.
So if even there and then you cannot love me,
I will throw my arms around you and thank you anyways
because there's no baby without me and no me without you.