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For the Father
by Ellaraine Lockie

You who forsakes his daughters
No, your blood does not run through them
You merely planted the seed
It was not a sacrifice
Nor even singular acts of paternal intent
Dogs do the same thing
And you've both gardened in many yards

It's their mother from the get-go
who gave up the bad food, booze and cigarettes
when she wasn't alone in her body
Her body that became their temple
Her breasts that bestowed offerings
to the small goddesses
It's her blood that circulates through
these new links in the matriarchal chain
Strong as metal that can't be cut
with the teeth of divorce

As could the paper connection you cast
Then scissored along with their self-esteem
Maybe you couldn't keep something
so integrated with an ex-wife who left you
Or maybe your second wife is Cinderella's stepmother
Who knows well how mothers
carry their children buried in them to their graves
Who is gratified when the first wife's flesh gapes
a little more with each stab of your rejection
With each inch of indifference
to daughters you inflict with desertion
Just like any male dog


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