As a downtown New Yorker, I’ve been pretty taken up by the happenings at Zuccotti Park today, so it feels strange to post the very different poem I’d planned for dVerse Poets Pub open link night. But life is complex, lived in lots of layers at once. The iPad painting (above) doesn’t exactly go with the poem, but all I could think of. I am also posting this for Poet’s Rally at Promising Poets.
Poem for my father
My father, who loves me completely,
is weakening.
My father, who loves me through and through,
cannot sit up on his own.
My dad, who would do anything for me,
cannot make his throat swallow.
I say to him,
“you have to try,” and he does, but
his body is not
all heart.
What will I do
when not loved
through and through? Hurts
thinking of it, hurts
completely, my body all heart
in a throat that can’t swallow.
ManicDDaily 
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