She may begin to knit and sew, crochet
or I, put shape to a piece of wood
or perhaps well kneaded clay.
Sometimes I just sit and think
about ideas; about the gift
I want to give to you, or should.
I re-construct you with imagination
without face or figure.
Trying to assemble your abstraction as a whole
I cherish those moments in quasi-solitude.
Finding my impression, my true fondness,
to express to you, a perfect gift.
A Father’s Birthday Card
Wailing, smiling, spread wide open, delivering without deliverance.
Quick panting breaths explode with every push unexpected.
in exhales of rejection, re-traction,
and impatient understanding.
Your name, repeated in giddy delight,
with clear pronunciation
in a moment of glory, of acceptance, consummated
in illumination, igniting a spark, lighting a flame.
Blinding bright at first, then glowing
in the amber that entered,
centered, within our name.
“I love you” I said to your mother;
“hello” is what I say to you.