Poem: Seeing My Father

Andres Rojas

​Lamentations 1:1

How did his car lay, solitary,
a lesser moon deflecting moonlight
barred by the shadows of pines,

my own from the porch light behind me
bent, another layer in the glass
under which his hands rose to the wheel,

barely seen through pollen and dust
as in life, his too-small chest and head
a reflection of glare and tried eyes,

wanting, perhaps, more than was there:
the non-gesture of breeze on branches,
the moon half hid in a cloud-cage sky.

(This poem originally appeared in 2River View)



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