Pop's Little Girl

Little girl, don’t forget his
face.
Close father’s hazel diamonds and lie
still, split seconds perpetuate aches,
delaying
goodbyes.

Spun out for certainty, peanut butter and jelly
forever reigning
over you. Thunder’s tears
watering
your not guilty plea
of sorrow,
to grow without due consideration.

Tap
Dorothy’s borrowed yet broken slippers.
Slipping, moments collapse
innocence.
Little girl, he will never define
release.


blemished, inevitably you will recoil
once again,
into thoughts neither
parting nor emerging.

little girl, he will replace
his lukewarm bareness,
someday. In cold death,
your only wish will
find you,
well.