POETRY

A daughter is a fractal

I have been pushing my bones towards my flesh

A perfect storm
girl and father
dancing against the gale of a shared possibility

When I was six
I swiped my fingers under running water
and told myself wet meant death
and how how fast I learned
to glide my finger on the blade

How brightly we burned to know ourselves

When I emerged I was so eager to share with you what I had done
what I had endured
the inner violence
and our prevail

In time you’ll learn how deeply too I saw what you had seen

Daughter struggling to wrestle her father’s hurts to the ground
as all daughters struggle
to wrestle their father’s hurts to the ground
and failing to
wrestle their partner’s hurts to the ground forever

In time you’ll learn how deeply too I saw what you had seen