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My Father's Sweater
by Mary Eliza Crane

I wear my father's sweater
colored by Irish sheep
though he has been dead more than three years.

I see him now
in the portrait of me as a poet.
Pointed chin,
Celtic nose,
his fine sand hair.
Our eyes turn inward now.

I am one year older
than when he downed his last drink.

He would not be happy
I am no longer married,
would rather write than work.
I still sit in the woods.

He remains my father
though I have lost the quality
of daughter.

It is my sweater now.

At First Light by Mary Eliza Crane, Gazoobi Tales Publishing 2011.


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