Daddy's Song - Susan Grimm

He has bought a new shirt, slipped it
from its cellophane sleeve, to please a woman.
The night birds stretch their necks and gargle
at the moon. Oh, love, love. He is not looking
at the stars, twisted like tinsel. They cost
nothing; they are too far away. He puts
a ring on her finger instead. The birds fly
to the family Bible, claw over its leaves.
New names are added to the march down the page.
The diagram deepens, widens--each child
a finger reaching, a leg, a piano key.
Light snow on the fields as he drives home;
dark lines of the earth winning through.
The night birds sing low and red.


Susan GRIMM,
First published in LAKE ERIE BLUE,
BkMk Press, Univeristy of Missouri-Kansas City