I’ve become my father.
I’m my own good daughter.
I give myself clever advice.
I don’t neglect my oil.
I paint old bedroom walls white.
I speak in fresh similes, like a fish.

But I do not laugh a wish for people
queer like me or unlike him
to fall into a killing, indiscriminate sea.
When I cry alone, I radically arch my lips.

I was false to my children’s father.
Done cuckolding my own heart, true.
I hurt him because I couldn’t leave. He did.
I broke five hearts, plus one or two.
My father broke six and lived on.
I’m bound to be us both and forgive.

Look! The tsunami passed the safe line.
I am swallowed by his giant wave.
I swim, no fatherland in my aching limbs.
When I cry at sea, my salt belongs to a vast face.


2 Responses to “Two-Faced”

  1. Fey says:

    I lack the vocabulary. This is mind blowing and I must read it over and over again to make it live in me.

  2. Glenn says:


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