My Stranger

My father, With the eyes of a small boy and the mind of an ox. My father, Who resembles my future husband. My father, The sound of my laugh and the pitter-patter of my feet when I was five, and the loud silence of his absence. My father, With hands that have never wiped my tears or tied my left shoe. My father, With a fist for a mouth. My father, Who had no father. My father, With my blood and my nose. My father, With the mouth of a man and the voice of a liar. My father, Whose middle name I can’t spell. My father, The boys whistling behind me as I walk down the street. My father, A pregnant belly. My father, A husband’s absence. My father, The tears rolling down my mother’s face. My father, Engraved on my back, hiding in the corners of my mind. My father. My stranger.