Dying light

Thinking of my father tonight; his birthday was this month.

In the autumn
of my father’s life,
leaves of pistachio,
liquid amber
glowing red
against a somber sky,

like the tumor
of my father,
glowing red
against gray matter.

My father, childlike, weeping;
I, his daughter, murmuring, mothering.

The leaves will fall,
as will my father,
his tumor
felling the host
on which it fed,
leaving only
gray branches
and long dark days
of winter.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s