Thursday
Jan082015

Letter to an Agoraphobic Father

Colleen Abel 


 

In my father’s house are many mansions

Two hundred rooms in each      in each

a suitcase filled with tiny fathers

 

bottle-shaped     shaped

like paperweights      Russian dolls of dads

little carved dice fathers      ivory

 

skulls      marbles      arrowhead fathers

inside the burnished leather

lacquered with stamps of nowhere

 

my father has ever been      the nowhere

of our ancestors      unflown planes

my inheritance      unsailed ships

 

I lift every piece of luggage

his helpmate      his bellgirl      our cargo