to my father on the anniversary of his death
At last the pavement ends.
Now if I lose your scent
I can follow your footprints.
You’re still breathing in the fog,
your lungs ghostly and delicate
like white lilacs.
I don’t care how many or what kind
have walked here, or run.
I only care about you,
your tracks fresh and firm,
as though you’re nearly within reach.
Don’t let me slow you down.
I will find you.