* response to ‘Daddy’ by Sylvia Plath
She lived
within his black shoes and wrote
a thick black dagger into his heart.
This was her daddy.
Her daddy; dead
by the time she was eight
At age 30,
with years of 10 chances
She finally followed
Finding him absent
Then, there is you daddy
The man I used to dance with
my feet light upon the tips
of your shined toes
with no daggers; no heart.
She thought of killing him
even after she knew him to be gone
But now it is you, daddy
slowly dying before this daughters eyes.
Within a faceless green haze
I see you fade as I wish for you
and you continue leaving me behind.
Just like hers
Yet, I will not follow
like Sylvia,
hunting her daddy
haunting within their
shared mausoleum of stone.
