SCRAPS
We had codes
In our house. Like
Locks; they said
We never lock
Our door to you.
And never did.
Their bed
Stood, spotless as a tub …
I passed it every day
For twenty years, until
I went my way. My chore
Was marking time. Gluing
Relics into books I saw
Myself at seven learning
Distance at my mother’s knee.
My favorite snapshot of my
Father shows him pushing forty
And lyrical
Above his firstborn’s empty face.
The usual miracle.




雷达卡




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