Monday, March 30, 2009

The Fatherland

is a place where fathers
have hammerhands.

They build play houses
and break the glass on doors

when small daughters accidentally
lock themselves in.

They wash hair without ever
letting soap sting eyes,

smooth tangles
from bird's nest hair

and tuck tuckered out
baby girls in bed.

Then, sometime after
the first wife's funeral

and the second wife's
inaugural ball

they drop discarded daughter
on her head.

3 Comments:

Blogger burning moon said...

this. just whenever you can get to these is fine

1:31 PM  
Blogger Chris Never said...

Very well done mate, I cannot really find fault with this piece, I have reexamined the last lines several times, at first read, they came across a little flippant but I have decided they finish the poem correctly, with just the right tone.

Good stuff

4:14 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

Thanks. This ones been sitting with me for a long time now. Finally wrote it last night.

10:19 PM  

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