My Daughter All Yourn

Farid Matuk

will she be closer to the falling away of the gaze of things than others?
hands on the water she calls scene setting
hands on the table water over the houses and hills swimming
not the ocean or the sea but the frame of time she'll tell of
wild happy yeses in her hands
she bites through in rage when rage
comes to her or we do and she's too small a flag
what does our house say? these borrowed things solid and whole
fabric lost to her a greasy boy speaks fast at the pizza stand
more available to be seen the young in their concerns
amidst the old artifice paint a boat and it will mean a dream
put names of your dear ones in it all yourn standing up
these little soft hands she bites through the bright white light of summer
shines off sand and vinyl siding itself composed against the salt

Copyright © 2013 by Farid Matuk. Used with permission of the author.

Farid Matuk

by this poet

poem
Difficult once I've said things 

to know them this morning

the lights above the tollway all off 

at exactly 7:36

all "we took our yellow from the pewter sky."


But we have so many 

things!   Stories

about our diction, the leather couch

some trees and our ages.

What about all the rooms the sky makes—