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Click hereThe bones in Daddy's shirt collar
rubbed in the little place above my lip
where supposedly some angel or another
kissed me good bye. For now.
The shirt got dirty so Mom
cut the shoulders off for me.
Still I rubbed.
The shoulders got too frayed.
I woke up with just the collar.
and rubbed...
And then it disappeared...
and I grew up.
I have a whole shirt again.
Collar bone and Old Spice.
I keep it in a ziploc bag.
Now I have my Daddy
whenever I want him.
Deceptively simple poem that says so much. Lovely imagery.
Thanks Boo.
When you write your heart's memories you immortalize your past, and you are very very good at it.
I hope you publish a collection sometime.
By the way, where the angel kissed you goodbye is called your philtrum.
and beautiful.
I had a few uniform shirts that were my dad's for a long while.
I'm glad you found a way to keep him and his spirit alive
very nice poem
Thank you
Boo, I wish I had something like that of my dads.I have that little glass bird ( the owl his spirit lives in) and for now he seems happy in there..
thank you for bringing back memories of my dad :)