Daddy

hate is fashionable

in the public square again

too bad you’re dead

you would have fit right in

so easy to imagine you

holding a shotgun

and your bed sheet with

the eye-hole cuts

loosely folded

in the closet

dialing the

equivalent of i c e

on a party-line phone

on a hot thursday afternoon

to report the brown-skinned man

weeding your neighbor's garden

always one

to do unto others

i'm never sure if you

can hear me but if you do

do you remember how

you were fascinated

with the clown

juggling his balls

on the sullivan show

on channel 4 of

your black and white tv

always wishing

nielsen would ring

so you could tell the pollsters

how it's playing

you don't need

a television or a

copper landline anymore

a portable handheld device

is the best source

to weigh-in on our disgrace

i know now

you were just one

of many daddies

of the generation

shaped by the big war

who grew up too fast

who withheld everything

you never got

who never learned

how to make

a bit of empathy last

well thanks anyway

for saving the world

and don't worry

about the mold on

the white bread

the miller bakes

or the grease

floating to the top

of the soup bubbling

in the communal pot

take a gander at

the model t left running

from the generation

yours brought forth

look at the daddy in charge

mortgaging our future

wherever you are

if you're listening

say a prayer for us

because i think

his father did to him

what so many fathers

of your generation

did to the others

they called their sons