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Fragment (8):Unforgettable, father

Writer: Conrad DiDiodatoConrad DiDiodato

Updated: Feb 19, 2024

Stiff as a mitt I was that's uneasily opened, for all my spitting-- and spit til I could spit

no more!- -and a boy's' strident shortstop legs that oughtn't be filled with dread


but always were. Leaden-winged like seagulls wheeling over me, and as dirtily anxious about evening as anything could be that really oughtn't be afraid to fly, much less fly home

afraid

I sometimes still feel. Nothing, of course, like a drunk papa's shrill whistling to put an end to starry starry sleep that cradled only empty nests (or only the ghost of a child-cradling tree!)

til a familiar father cop came in who for comfort kidded us about the jam stuck in our teeth, comfort food served to sleepless goslings that oughtn't to have been holstered at dawn


but always were




 
 
 

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