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Alana Folsom: Mirroring

April 25, 2018 by PBQ Leave a Comment

 

I study myself and find him
in the ridge of my nose

in the rungs of my ribcage.
Boys who will never meet him

cup and bless my body
tug my damp underwear

past the knots
of my knees; they don’t see

him, they don’t see anything else
besides me.

And I am sorry
for all this sex

so close to my father.
But he is within me

even as he withers away.
Same flat feet, same bone shapes.

As any good daughter would,
I hug my father

goodbye at his red front door,
try to mean I love you and not

Don’t die before I learn
what love is for.

Filed Under: Contributors 97

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