Do I have a dad?
There is a man with whom I share 50% of my genetics, sure
Hazy recollections of fishing rods and McDonald’s chicken nuggets in a red pick up truck
There was a man
And there was a shadow
A monster with a voice like thunder
But I’m not sure if there was a dad
I used to bake fish every June
And pack lunches for long nights in the plow truck
I remember
And I remember a forearm the size of my head
And I remember feeling safe and feeling scared
Never knowing when the gun might go off
Is a father just a bullet?
Is a daughter just a target?
If I catch a glimpse of a child in the mirror tonight
Is she ever safe from the loaded barrel?
















