Cities are Houses

whose feet almost almost walk air

they outlive my father

while his clothes remain unexplained

i obey him even though he forgets my name

i lay beside him in a tiny lake full of oxygen

there is a vinyl stillness, a strange taste within exhales

Days

let us give the goldest
the one bent before us two
a sound, a speech,
and overwhelming goodness
before larks, night the sentiment
the fear of not seeing you once again

-Father