mort mot juste

abril 29, 2013

goodbye daddy

he used to hoard estate, cash, children.
that was all he ever knew how to do.
he would buy land, sell money and give love away
like easy christmas all year long.
(we never celebrated christmas, though)

when the vultures came, as they were
bound to come for all, to his deathbed
i was lost for words so i let them speak:
we came for our share
(at tea time, with cakes and get-wells
and best wishes their beaks hiding
and twisting in half-hearted smiles)

robbed of his pride
"they took everything", he said
the doctors would have said
no pens, his sick hands will sign
no checks
his mortal soul will not be measured in gold
but there was no hospital scene
the vultures were my brothers and sisters.

i couldn't say and the cemetery lady
wouldn't understand that I just wanted
the one rose, not the whole thing
go on honey, take it, no charge

this, the last offense
I took my free rose my shame rose
and i wanted to tell him i was sorry
from above his grave
didn't i leave you with enough means
to buy a bloody rose or the entire flower shop
if you damn well please
i never took anything for free, he said (I thought he said
but the dead are quiet
and the sound was me)
I just wailed and got the cemetery grass
and it grew not thankful
just full of purpose

months later the chinese man
with the acupuncture needles
and the wall certificates
spoke to the 10 year-old in me
in his wisely broken english
daddy had to go somewhere else
and one day we'll all go there too

maria 7:38 PM 2 vociferando estavam

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