A Poem

Daughter of Mine


“Let’s sit on the couch and talk,”
she says, taking my hand.
And I go.
Friends wiser than I
say it won’t be long
before this changes.
Soon her eyes will glide over me
when she surveys a room.
I’ll be superfluous,
too familiar to be interesting.
A static character in the narrative of her life.

It’s natural.
It’s normal.

It wouldn’t change a thing if I
decided to jump out of an airplane.
A minor blip on the screen.

I remember a reunion between the two of us.
Our first separation, a weekend apart.
When she heard my voice,
saw my face,
she crawled like lightning,
little hands slapping the floor,
to get to me.

It’s not forever.