For Father’s Day. These postcard poems developed out of a prompt to imagine a photograph of someone and begin a poem with “In this one, you are…”
In this one, you are standing with a broad, straight back, working at the drafting board. I creep beside you to watch lines and symbols become someone’s home in front of you. You turn to me with the finest of pens and write my name across my toenail.
In this one, you are lying on your side, stretched out on the floor, newspaper laid out on the golden shag carpet. Baby brother climbs you in his diaper and you catch him with a big hand, roll onto your back and set him on your feet. He laughs and flies.
In this one, we are in a red wagon and you are tall in front of us, pulling us in crazy curves and zags. Our small hands grip the metal, grab onto each other suspended between life and death. You rocket us into the next dimension and we may not return.