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Life is cost, throwing good years after bad
Why make more of it, why shovel out bits of
Yourself to create a monument to all you haven’t done?
I have so many questions for my father
Do all ships rock like they are being tossed in waves?
Did you hold your breath when you land?
Are you not my father, Duke?
Shouldn’t I look into my face & see you
Winking back like the stars?
The seams of your waistcoat have snagged
On brush & cacti, leaving a trail
Of stories unwinding, voice swallowed.
If I planted my feet & called your name
Would a storm come churning through
The endless sky? Do spaceships sound
Like helicopters? Churning & sloped in hover?
Does it sound like a man afraid to say
His own name aloud
Afraid of what it will summon?