He has always been there
Sailor tongued superhero
pockets full of dirty jokes
Each step of his was four
to little scrambling feet
My progress tethered to a pinky
Wait, Daddy
Powder kegs of emotion
I didn’t understand
where it came from, then
Punching holes in walls
His motor always running
never out of gas
Wait, Daddy
An industry of creation, exploration
The salvation of artifacts
in careful order
Patient with the process
of printing out light
drawing it from the darkness
Wait, Daddy
A love sometimes clumsily expressed
Expectations line a deep well
A big engine needs
a lot of maintenance
to keep the valves clean
to avoid a sudden stall
Wait, Daddy
He has always been there
A library of wisdom
close enough to call
bound with devotion
braving the distance
traversing zones of inspiration
Wait, Daddy
Ticking time bombs in the blood
I didn’t understand
the threat, then
Procedures can’t be panaceas
A locomotive interrupted
screaming wheels suddenly halt
Wait, Daddy
Dad, wait
On May 7th my Dad had a series of strokes, accompanied by some kind of seizure, and had to be rushed to the hospital. He’s just entered a rehab facility, and is showing incredibly promising progress, but it’s been a stressful time for a good portion of my family, especially my Mother. I never know what to do with myself during these kinds of situations (where you can’t really do anything), so I just pray, send food, and write. Recently I’ve thrown myself back into the poetry pit I inhabited when I was in my late teens / early twenties, so here I share something I started working on in response to the above. I would really appreciate some feedback on the writing; anything you feel compelled to say, including negative things, would be welcome as comments. The photograph is from a couple of Christmases ago, out of a Graflex XL and on Kodak TriX.
TexasGirl Photography 
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