Father's Day
violet pansies with silly faces
ask me about truth
it's Sunday morning and old hurts
return to kick me in the guts and i'm
already down for the count
when your father is dead there's nothing
but silence between you and his grave
absence has sixty-four scorpion stings,
but you keep
on walking
my children will always remind you that
Father's Day is not about men with selfish
inclinations, it's about a mother's child,
loving you with their always-children hearts--
love that chains melodies of forgiveness
to little heels that will never crush you.
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