My father is a coward, and I have grown to love the man who took my hand, afraid of leaving my side or asking the head nurse for a blanket even while I lay shivering on a gurney with an IV in my arm. Helpless and restrained, I saw a father who made no move to stop an incensed mother from feeding their colicky baby -- sick of raising a bottle to my mouth, she dropped me into the cradle from a height of four feet. After twenty years, he told me how he called the cops who could do nothing, all on record in a box somewhere. I love men who still wear uniforms sewn with care by women expert with needle and thread. Where is she who mended mountains of clothes that do not fit me now? Who is that man who weeps unheard inside my body? I love men who do not raise their voices in a crowd even when they are moving in the wrong direction -- men who were never loved, I love. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN EXPLANATION by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON CONTENTMENT, AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACE by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY SONNET (ON AN OLD BOOK WITH UNCUT LEAVES) by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TO THE LADYBIRD by MOTHER GOOSE |