I wish you'd held me close enough;
just once
would've been enough
for me
to tell your arms
from all the others,
to know that here is
where I'm meant to be.
I wish you'd held me close enough,
just once,
without me wanting
to pull away,
without that smell under
your shirt,
without a hush
on your lips.
When you kissed me,
did you see
I turned the other way?
I wish you were here to hold me close enough,
just once,
so I'd know arms big
enough to cradle
this girl from birth,
to nurse her
through infancy
and back towards death.
Because if you were, if you could,
I'd make my own
arms wide enough for all your bones,
and your feeble palms
would match mine,
both shaking now,
both too old to go back, anyhow,
to where they once began.
Here are my arms. Hold me.
I won't let you falter;
you are my father, my father.
