Praise My Dead Father

gone thirteen years now

plenty of time for anger to subside, to

forget he never said I was pretty,

stop being wistful when

women talk about being

daddy’s girl.

he had many good qualities: smart,

hardworking, uncomplaining

generous, forgiving, energetic, funny;

he wrote poetry, collected

art, subscribed to the

Book of the Month club.

Praise him a self-made man

raised in a cold water tenement

on Delancey Street

so poor he slept on two chairs

pushed together

studied law riding the subway

on his way to sweep floors in a factory;

played ball on weekends; said

nothing came easy because

nothing came easy;

married my mother, always

congratulated himself for

winning her hand except at the end

when she broke her hip,

lost her marbles,

then he sent her to me; but the middle

part was great.

Praise him because

though he was a homely, Jewish guy

with kinky hair glasses

and big nose

he looked swell in a suit and tie

his sisters lined up next to him all

bouffant and manicured:

a success story and well deserved.

Praise him even

if he wasn’t that crazy about me;

who could blame him

I’m not that crazy about me either.

About Karen To and Fro

Everything you didn't want to know about me!
This entry was posted in poetry. 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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s