Ode to My Father


I remember my father
Scolding me “Don’t do that”

And in that don’t
There are a lot of dos

Enough for a million vows
Where an invisible bond is mightier

Than the vow between man and woman.
A bond of gamete and gamete donor.

How a bald-headed man
Makes a verb – do – do things

That no paycheck can. Like love and discipline.
It’s beautiful to think that genes

On his Y chromosome, will take
Me to la la land some day,

My cup of tea, with tang
That I will taste with glee.

And I do remember how a long time ago
He too gave me milk, in the form of words

Not pumped through two breasts;
But through every little lining of space

Between his ribs.

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