How To Say Father Silently

In parent language, the word for father is a kindergarten turkey
to my forehead, which is to say thumbed matter into matter
enough times until it stuck – stuck meaning one layover
away until the city. If mentioning Brooklyn, the word
for parent city is also father, which is to say cockroaches
in the milky glow of streetlamp, which is to say steel grime
apple clenched between nascent palms – apple meaning father,
also, in the way crumble pie becomes my favorite, which is to say
guessing at words for daughter. In parent language,
daughter is the soft skim of cheek to crib – cheek like spice
of shrimp in a melted July – July meaning wet warmth in the never
sleep – which is to say midnight buses curled on his shoulder,
which is to say first sunrise over Williamsburg. Bridge
is a two parent word – bridged like the tumble crush of her swollen
body at the foot of the stairs, which is to say I know him in the sof
of my head. In parent language, to miss the city is that I miss him –
miss meaning turkey stuck, which is to say dad – which is to say
I love you – love meaning just the way I wish you would change.

keavyaKeayva Mitchell is a twenty-two year old currently living in Long Beach, California. Among the many jobs she holds she is an associate editor for a female executives magazine, as well as a sometimes blogger for The Poetry Lab. Her favorite poets include Terrence Hayes, Cristin O’Keefe-Aptowicz, and Rachel McKibbens. She thinks you’re cool.

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