a thought otherwise

how do i make her
believe that he is still around;
his epilepsy did not cure
with the burning away of his bones
he still needs me to wipe his
miserable wounds, he still needs me
to file his pension papers
for sustenance at God's home...
Look at his head just
above my khol eyes
-a chandelier of frost
in stormy darkness, he, my
playtime Galileo... Mother
he is your dad I once wanted to run away with!