Teach Your Children Well
. . . . a father's day poem
how many times
must i remind you
i am not defined by you,
i am defined
by these berries i pick
along this road
we both walk?
here i am becoming
intimate with my shadow
while releasing peter pan
from his eternal prison
of magical thinking
here i am walking backward
up a wooded hill
in island morning light
stopped only by the antlers
of the five point buck
who stands guard over all
the children of neverland
he sees me share these berries
with his fawns
watches me drop royal annes
down to them from this
cherry tree throne,
knows i've paid my tax
to the ruling class of the orchard
& in return
lets me pass
here i am continuing
on this road
with the only memory
that matters: that of a father
who taught the important lessons well
for Fox Island
