Читать книгу The Wounded Woman - Linda Schierse Leonard - Страница 8

my father was not in the telephone book

in my city;

my father was not sleeping with my mother

at home;

my father did not care if I studied the

piano;

my father did not care what

I did;

and I thought my father was handsome and I loved him and I wondered

why

he left me alone so much,

so many years

in fact, but

my father

made me what I am

a lonely woman

without a purpose, just as I was

a lonely child

without any father. I walked with words, words, and names,

names. Father was not

one of my words.

Father was not

one of my names.

Diane Wakoski

“The Father of My Country”