A poem for Sunday

I buried my father in the great light,
the corroded pink, burning the eye to see,
launched him into dream commons, particularity,
a new matter of time, him & his apologies.

I buried our father under the great terebinth where
we ploughed up the moss shine one last time &
mother’s face was made newly easy, sloughed
of all last trace of girlhood.

And the earth reseeds.

QOSHE - [36. Violence: Patri-confessional] - Nam Le
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[36. Violence: Patri-confessional]

11 0
25.02.2024

A poem for Sunday

I buried my father in the great light,
the corroded pink, burning the eye to........

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