Dear Dad,

   Your lessons recede into the past, but somehow remain in the same place; it's as if I am standing on the edge of a lake so vast that I mistake it for the ocean, and as the waves crash and move away my eyes lose focus and the harder I stare the more I feel like the tide must be going out, when really there is no tide at all because my bare feet are standing in a spring-fed lake that has been there for thousands of years.

First night, last morning

I broke the rules this morning,

Spreading color on my face in front of him,

Shamelessly talking behind a door that never closes,

Latched against my own anxieties.

There are two of you,

He told me, kneeling, head in my hands

And they are at war.

So what? I asked, what if that’s how it should be,

What if everyone else is wrong,

Why does everyone need to say something is wrong.

Well, think about it, no living creature wants to die

Or live in pain, you’re stripping the gears,

One day they will be bare.  I know, I told him,

But what am I supposed to do?

Shall I pour myself into his eyes,

Forgetting until… or….

Grow a thicker skin, kill one of these two,

Live far away from myself forever?

Footsteps in the kitchen, someone is listening,

And I didn’t have to ask; he already knew.