THIS IS A FATHER
Where are you going?
That you don’t know, do you?
Yes, it’s me. Who else would it be?
You think I don’t see what you’re up to?
Wait, I’m not finished.
He’s in such a hurry to leave
but he doesn’t know the address.
Walk, walk, that he knows, the easy part.
How will you end up?
You think I’m hard on you? I’m not hard enough.
Where do they come from,
smart guys like you?
And where do they go?
Head at one end, feet at another.
What kind of creature is this?
Meshuggener, a crazy man.
Two billion times in a lifetime it beats,
And the brain, three and a quarter pounds,
200 billion neurons. And for what?
To walk. What, again!
Walks out on a wife.
Walks out on a child.
You I didn’t walk out on.
For you I stayed—even now,
I may be dead, that’s true,
but I’m not going anywhere.
This is a father.
[from The Collected Poems, Black Moss Press.