[the Writing of Kuypers][JanetKuypers.com][Bio][Poems][Prose]

Father’s Tears translated into Spanighm then back into English... tears of the father Really it never knew him. Workboots of the location of the work knew to the scent of his, Knew the scent of martinis waiting for it in the country. The sound of its long walk knew: its ankles that become broken, its keys that confuse. Sternness of its voice knew, and knew to that around me he only smiled for the photographies. The emotions had their place for him. It reserved the happiness for the friends, rage for the home. In all he it did and felt he showed to force and power. I have seen it shout twice. Once it cut his hand with a mountain range. I saw the fabric four inches of thickness soaked with blood around its hand. I saw the drops of the blood in the seat of the car. He conducted himself to the hospital. It was always in control. But I heard the pain in its voice. It was stopped in the road and I shouted. Copyright Janet Kuypers. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission.