Stephanie Goehring :: For My Father, My Dad

Stephanie G. is an old friend of mine from our English-majorin' days at GMU. She wrote this poem a few days ago about her father, who is sick right now, then recorded a reading to the tune of Points, Lines & Polygons' rough cut of "River Song." Here is Stephanie's (wonderful, as usual) poem with/out Jeremy's and my accompaniment:




For My Father, My Dad
- Stephanie Goehring

When I said I was tired of speaking
of your chest, the stars it houses
collapsing, our love, the loss of it,
I meant the fictional love of lovers,

but now my father's lungs are full
of shooting stars not yet shot
but maybe someday shot
into his heart or brain and aneurysm

is not a word I'll ever be prepared to say,
the way it opens like a black hole closing
its palms to the world. I know I never opened
my mouth to say such things, but if I could

take back everything I've written
about these things inside us, their betrayals,
I wouldn't; my father taught me
to mean what I say.