Fathers poem

by Gustaf Sobin

for Gabriel

…too late to do anything, now, but
begin. but recycle the spent stars on their
imated orbits- and dahlias. too. yes, dahlias, and
the blown tulips, flaked well beyond the bleached
frescoes of
memory. carve, then. for certainly the translucent
pores of the
fingers will swell to what the hands, in all their
rapacity, had long since

Last updated December 03, 2022