Like my Father

by Martha Landman

I wanted to be drunk and now
I’m jumbled by the cashew nuts
You can’t right the wrong
and have a good time too
your head pounding
cross-eyed

Better go slow down the steps,
stay upright like my father did
every time he performed
a miracle beyond human elegance
enchanted by blue silk;
he was a real cruncher,
a kick ass

dead at the age of forty:  A
deceased person undertaking to
move along the breeze and gasp
against the death tag, music
cartwheeling in his ears.

Mother says I’m the only
one around missing him,
says his influence
made me take a nicotine-
fingered shit like you.

But she’s full of shit too -
cradling herself to sleep
in his rocking chair,
photo album in her lap.