FATHER’S HAND 

My father’s right hand is a scarlet letter,  

is a soft blanket, is plantation purple. 

Was made in God’s tattoo parlour.  

Was dipped in Turkish rug. Is co-inventor 

of the freight train hug: it hits you hard.  

 

Father’s hand works at the factory of spare parts:  

piecing joints, glueing limbs, weaving open wounds. 

 

Father’s right hand is the first aid kit of a suture king,  

is operation-on-call. Works delivery room standby.  

Emergency room graveyard.  

 

Father’s hand is first touch at daylight,  

is last sight before nightfall.  

Is the one to pick up the phone, begin with the words  

I’m sorry to inform you…