Missing

The morning air is thick with old dreams and ghosts.
It hangs like a cowl.
The sun is black.

A good man is dead.

But not you. I heard about how you broke your nose when you fell down drunk on your face and I heard about how you cursed my mother and I heard about how you forgot that I was your daughter.

Last night I wept in my sleep.
It was like drowning.

A good man is dead because his sadness devoured him. He had a man like you in his life. Each week we met in a room and listened. Last night he wasn’t there. Last night my brother told me that you fell down drunk and broke your nose and had the shakes by noon.

Something
is missing.

I have a lover who helps me realize that my heart is large and plump and happy.
And I wanted to introduce him to you.
And I wanted you to be happy for me.

But you called me and left a message for someone else. I called you but you didn’t answer. A good man is dead. You didn’t come to my graduation. You didn’t see me become a doctor. You never chose me unless it was to knock me down.

And I accept that I will never be the daughter you wanted.
I would rather be who I am
even though I weep
for a good man
I barely knew,
even though sometimes
I still miss
the father
I never had.

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One thought on “Missing

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