Moonlight on Broken Boughs

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moonlight makes me difficult to love

i am all day sun

father birthed

not mother

 

my first words were his                           not mine

he named me a broken mirror

 

later i learned he used mama-shards

to carve rivers from infant wrist

 

that was a moonlit night

eclipse kind

 

i had a lover one night

he cremated me with kisses

 

in the morning i was ash

 

i put my love in broken cradles

on bending willow boughs

to watch it break its bones

 

i am guided by the love of grief

perhaps grief of love

i know the source of my moonlight

i light candles for mad men

ask ancestors for greatest good

 

still in love

 

i remember him/them on father’s day

with dead flowers grown in my gut

 

i pray for many fathers

men who made me what i am

planting seed in soul for gardens of grief

 

he maketh me to lie down           my father

who art in heaven

 

i kiss memories in moonlight

dismiss them in day

otherwise i will laugh

like dead burying their dead

and who will hold my dirty hands

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