balled up in the corner
like a dirty napkin
all the care
distorted beyond recognition
nomenclatures given
rename the pain
rename the past
my immigrant father
knowing better
knowing everything
i saw his face
the day he died
i caught a look
he never gave me
while he was alive
and this is what he said with his passing,
"son, though i never knew you, i know you've been good all along, i just never knew how to tell you."
