Dear Daddy
Nathan Jeffries
The sticky sweet odors rising from
the yellow-pink Lay-Z-Boy
remind me his sheets need changing
And I should flip his light green/
dark green pillow:
Just for Good Measure.
While he sits babbling at his rattle
an empty gin bottle-clear on clear
with black permanent marker
praying “Bombay Sapphire”-
filled by 3 teeth and a day
old piece of chewing gum
-Spearmint-
But this is just the prelude
soon we will both sit while
his memories project on the
pock marked white walls
guarding our bed room.
And I will eat day old popcorn
as the movie plays on,
scratched with scenes missing:
An endless loop of nonsensical
gunfights and confused love stories.
He remembers and remembers as
his head bounces about like a
plastic bag filled with ten
dozen moths, each one breaking
to scatter a piece of the image
about the room
Their sepia twinged wings mirror
the yellow sad of his corneas,
drooping from years of mis-management
Until the lights turn sharply out,
fast and heavy, like the power
fell off.
Then I move in the darkness:
to find his blue blankie
still warm in the dryer
Because the man who taught
me to read deserves to sleep on
a clean blanket.
