Apology for My Father

Good thing my father was a father to me
to sit with me a while on the sand
when I swam out drunk into the sea

To give me a slap and then talk
calmly about when and how holy women are
and to smoke a silent cigarette or two

Good thing my father was a father to me
and for my mother’s sake as well,
who sees a part of him in me

and washes her memories. Buries the bad
and paints him every morning in her eyes
stronger and cleaner

Good thing my father was a father to me
and that my children now carry him off somewhere
in their torn pockets