Sunday, August 3, 2008

not bad, dad, not bad

by Jan Heller Levi

I think you are most yourself when you're swimming;
slicing the water with each stroke,
the funny way you breathe, your mouth cocked
as though you're yawning.

You're neither fantastic nor miserable
at getting from here to there.
You wouldn't win any medals, Dad,
but you wouldn't drown.

I think how differently everything might have been
had I judged your loving
like I judge your sidestroke, your butterfly
your Australian crawl.

But I always thought I was drowning
in that icy ocean between us,
I always thought you were moving too slowly to save me,
when you were moving as fast as you can.

happy father's day

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