Poetry: The Father

Red bathing suit

Three letters to my father. November marks the twentieth anniversary of his death and his birthday.

The god of thunder

There’s a mark on the wall
The open scar
The scream of the wounded beast
The whimpering of a girl

The image in dreams is tinted
It smells like death
There is a sad woman
Sharp pieces of love
Sleeping with your eyes half-open

You are the god of thunder
A broken Zeus
Your love is cold and thick as mud
Dry flowers on your grave

That day dozens of crystals flew
Bright in the air like fireflies
Used their glow to light the way
Now I live in my own underworld

A childish Persephone
Dwelling among cracked memories
Playing with sad souls
Surrounded by putrid beauty

You are the god of thunder
A broken Zeus
Your love is cold and thick as mud
Dry flowers on your grave


The phone rang very early that morning

If you write a letter to a spirit,
Where do you send it?
How do you know he will receive it?
Or if he will even read it?

”What a waste of time!”, she thought
But she decided to write it anyway
She imagined him sitting in a chair
and surrounded by books

The orthopaedic leg
posing diagonally to the chair
He would wear square glasses
And his hair would be grey

She would tell him about the new apartment,
The neighbour’s notes,
That the wooden floor creaks,
And the winter is very cold

“No, Dad, I won’t have children.
I am barely able to take care of myself”,
and he would smile thinking:
“Better this way; nobody in the world deserves my little girl”
A Father selfishness, it’s just that
A love that will always last

“Work fine, dad. Everything is going well.
I love you, and I miss you. Write to me soon”, she demands sweetly,
saying goodbye

The father folded the letter
and kept it in his pocket,
saying to himself:
“I’ll write to her tomorrow.”

The phone rang very early that morning
That was the time she knew; that she would never see him again.


I used to love floating in the water

I used to love floating in the water
I closed my eyes and covered my nose
You pushed me to the bottom
To make me fly high
like a rocket facing the sun

I levitated in the air for seconds
Endless minutes like drops in time
A hysterical laugh, chocked
Of supreme happiness
Sparkling childhood and seashells

Life felt like blue
As the sunset bouncing off the sand
Like when we went swimming
You let go of the crutches
jumping little by little towards the sea

I used to love floating in the water
Because the pain washed away slowly
I used to wear the red swimsuit
And played with that big rubber float

Mama had sad eyes
Her eyes were like a lake
Green, placid, deep
But the truth
remained hidden

Despite the long road
There was always time to eat
It was your way of loving
With the heat of seasoning
and our little bellies full

Who knows what tormented you!
Patience was short
Dosed in little moments
When the monster appeared
Everything turned black

Mama’s eyes
changed colour
Now they were yellow
Like a scared animal
But ready to attack

Then, everything went back to the way it was before
Waves of laughter and dreams
Skin pink from the sun
Mom and her green eyes
Dad and his quiet beast

Published by Cherry Adam

Moody experimentalist. Hypersensitive & Noir moments Poetry, Essays & Sound Experimentation Freelance Music Journalist

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