Once,
I was so lonely
that my father gave me doubt as a sibling.
As he found new gods
in a long needle and hot spoon,
I was given the company of denial,
and hugged Pop like buildings hug eviction notices. My mother bit her fists.
I kept still.
I do not cry for expectations met.
But now that he does not live above the sink
there is no naturality to his negligence.
There comes hungry emails,
kissed shut letters.
There is a fresh desperation
puppeteered by guilt.
It confuses me to no end.
It is as if he believes
I have saved a childhood for him.
As if I did not learn to tie my shoes
watching him tie off his arm.
How naive of my father to expect a welcome.
And how comforting to realize
that I am every part of unforgettable
he should never
have missed.
Once,/ I was so lonely/ that my father gave me doubt as a sibling.
