Eternal Fragments

His smile and sob – in exact
shape – live on my face. Alter
egos of his tension loiter in
my mind.

My big toes – like the tortoises’
heads – are perfect imitations.

The same smell of sweat from
my armpits rouses his presence.

The sparks within my skull are
from his furnace. His gene
reflects in my word and deed.

As I fumble in the snag, light
falls from his antique lantern.

I often see him on the pavement
of my midnight dream.

What he dreamed of me, I dream
of my children.

When death had chewed my dad,
some eternal fragments fell out
of its mouth.

First printed in Moon Pigeon, US.