Dad (1)

My dad fell asleep

in his chair across the room from me

In his house with no tv

with nothing but music and

Old photographs to make time pass.


I watched his chest rise and fall until its

pattern was engraved in my brain

he breathes to the strum of a guitar

to the dancing of piano keys, to my breath

as he built me and shaped its pattern.


he sleeps but still his feet kick to the rhythm

of the speaker, stays in his sneakers (like all dads)

with his mouth wide open (but in his dreams,

he’s probably singin’). and Love pours from it

straight from the soul and engulfs the room

makes the fire grow bigger, turns my blood

toasty warm and melts

my hearts broken pieces

into one.


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