Everyone's Father

His hair was a sparrow’s feather and his eyes were blue lagoons blocked by layered glass and his skin was stretchy birch with many scratches and his teeth were a smooth welcome mat His nose was the perfect bunny slope and his cheeks were small sun baked blood stains and his tongue is a brook over smooth stones and his whistle was a shepherd's staff and his laugh was deep fresh cotton He smiled and it was a blanket during a freezing rain and his aches were only soft whispers and his neck was an elephant’s trunk and his arms were the great pyramids His elbows were drooping drapes over white wooden frames and his wrists were grease stained and stiff and his handshakes were iron clasps and the palms of his hands were the Statue of David And his wife was the smell of a warm fudge cake His heart was a large decaying dark brown cabin and his shoulder blades were covered with speed bumps and his belly button was playing hide and seek between waves and his copper chest hair curled with sweat and his back was ivory linoleum with deep tractor tire ruts His blood was a swift horse on race day and his legs were covered with charcoal wind and his ligaments were stretched tube socks His toes were braided between twisted ropes and his footprints were a farm hand’s and his promises were a fondue fountain and his grin was an airplane’s view from above the white clouds and the last time he saw her his eyes were grey and red She was a safe house, run down by storms with his unfading glance on her conscious mind He saw her, and his face was an empty room where his walls were not strong enough to save her