for J.C.S. & M.G.S.
my one opportunity,
my one time to experience, up close, as they developed,
my children
impossible to be allowed,
to be as near anyone else’s children
at one point realized that my daughter was, behind my back,
sneaking into adulthood
would have gone through that door, into a room
or out of the room or out of the window
would have flown without my seeing her go
without even knowing she was covered in feathers
that she had wings
wanted to slow it down, to be as close as you are,
as close as you seem to what's beneath a microscope
needed to be present, needed to see
needed as many opportunities, as many situations
as we could fall into
got carried away a time or two, looking, fascinated
exposed myself and was embarrassed
situations to see, to have her to myself
her and me, until her sister was equally fascinating,
I, doubly in awe, until she turned off
had I gone too far, crossed a line I should not have
got nearer to her than was comfortable
she drew away—one left still to explore with
to investigate as she grew
transition, transformation, transforming me as well
what had I known previously of fathering women
to being father of babies, I was still adjusting
not married inspired distance
puberty approached, I was determined to enlist
one time show, miracle occurring, no place for standoffish
I’d have been foolish
their lives as if my life as well, ring side seat to all my days
needed a similar ticket to this match, contest, to this concert
had to help them all I could, to pass it—through that passage
what a time it was—at times complex to go through
as well as to look back on
though ugly showed its face upon occasion
their mother's jealousy, cultural otherness at times arising
attempts to strangle exploration, expression
wrestled still, wrestle on—a different distance
another place, quite another time
both of them pressed up against 30, like hips
upon a toilet seat or like pilgrims, up against a wailing wall
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
2:44 a.m. 21.08.09
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home