Poem to Jack from Dad

May 1st, 2010

This is a Poem Frank wrote back in December before we knew the gender:


whatever your middle name
ends up being
I hope
you turn out to be a boy
or I will feel bad
about this poem.
Maybe a hard drive crash
will save me.
This is your father
and off the bat
(and there will be bats, boy)
you should know
this is what I do
at night when I
seem to worship
the light from the square
in front of my face.
I write about love.

You are now a dot
in some other dots
(it reminds me of a hurricane)
on a picture
3 x 4
or so
on the side of the fridge
where no one can see
except your grandmother maybe
(that would be funny
I know her first word would be, “Oh.”)
if she showed up

we’re going to have problems.
I anticipate you may
wreck my bike
hate my mower
aim your first
fuck you
at me
learn the shape of my hand
recognize the steel in me
when it rises
let me in one ear
and always out the other
rail at me
when you mean to
do it to the world
and disagree with me
for the best reason ever:
just because.

there are truths
you need to know.
I didn’t mean
to make things hard.
Shit will happen.
Damn it.
The internet just died on me.
Love is worth it
every time
even if it’s wrong.
you and I
will share
Infinite varieties of breakfast