Accessory to my rebellion
We devised special knocks and pass codes
KaMaNa and the answer to “Who?”
At the door: “C’est moi, le Poisson Rouge”
The finest French you’d ever spoken
Remnants from a past life of a family man
When you loved her, and sang the praises
Of her Crème Caramel – Best Flan in Town!
Reassuring, you said
Sometimes daughters fail, but
“I still love you”
On the street, the TV’s corpse lay shattered
Victim of gravity from the fifth floor window’s rage
Remnants from a hidden angry monster kept chained
When you loved me, and boasted with pride
Of surmised talents, I misused and abused.
Thinking I understood
But knew nothing about us, and
Found myself desperate to heal your wounds
To console my own, but
Found only the Poet’s Plague, chronivorous,
Verbivorous, and most egregiously
Thief of what was only briefly mine
You.
Grateful for so many names,
You call me Little Honey still
A warm embrace that glossies my eyes, and
Forces thoughts of “Justice” and “Fairness”
Into banishment as I bite my lip fiercely
To offset the ache swelling within
A great smoke and mirror show
Projecting strength I do not possess.
I may be sad forever remembering
Breakfast discussions of punctuation identities
Of which you have had many,
Our present is but another
All of which dwell in my words on this page
With the ring of your laugh in my ear
I can not miss you
Ever.
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