Father’s Hat

This is when
time and up
root begin to
make sense,
these hours,
when wasps
make honey
in the dark,
when father
swims in sap
for the last
time, cursing
at stars, each
day getting
blinder and
blinder, ham
mer mouth
and palm
spitter, find
your way out
and leave
our sundays
alone.

SRRC/2012