I Used to Go to Church When my doctors thought I saw my father slumped over in a painted chair sunlight wearing faded paisley boxer shorts Before I was sure if I should call out to him he got up & moved through the room looking at everything picking up photographs of my friends cupping the mug I'd used for tea His hands ran along the edge of the dining table as if the objects he touched could tell him the few things he wanted to know about my life My old man opened a window & the wind rushed in bringing birds Pigeons perched on his outstretched arms & on his head Each one cooed a single note but the sounds mingled together like a chorale of bell ringers & my father he did nothing to stop it...
