molly jane burns

My Father Said
​
I stare at a blue eye, thin lips
that used to smile without cracks.
I watch a veined hand smooth
my white hair, stiff
with sleep.  In this mirror, it is true.
My skin is of soil, it is more
than I need.
​
I fathered seven children, and you
second to the last, ask me for answers
I will not know.
I feel only my blistered bones
dig through flesh until they can go
no more.  It is rich
​
inside this room,
I watch the shape of your nose
as you move to kneel by my side
with water to stop my thirst.
I see the gold hoops through
the holes of your ears
that I have pierced.
​
I have given you two beautiful hands.
​
I hear you speak
with my mother's words.
I drink.  Then reach out
to touch the lines of your palms
that have cupped your face
and share in their journey.
​
You have my eyes.
​
You know.
It is for your mother that I want
to live. It is for you, who
will live without me.
You see now why I loved silently.
You will come to understand all
which I leave you, in one gift
dating back to 1905 on a wood dining table,
my birth.
​
molly jane burns