I am my father's son.
I am my daughter's dad.
He seems set to be leaving me soon.
Though he still has the heart to stay,
His body, it seems, just won't obey.
She's disowned me,
Disemboweled me,
Silently,
Surreptitiously,
By Deed Poll bureaucracy:
Disavowed her birth,
Her roots,
Her identity:
My earth.
I am still my father's son,
My daughter's dad
Till the end may come.
Tuesday poem #571 : Anna Reckin : Linearity
6 days ago
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