How sick I get of your ghost
stirring the blood between us,
how sick of the ties
that hold me.
Father, a shrink on the highway
told me to write. To who?
I have made you up. You are
the air in my birthday balloon
the clown at our barbecue
proud patron of the bottle-o
you shape my fingers and my toes
you cast my shadow
my every look-over-the-shoulder
you carve my tombstone in womb bone.
How sick I get of my ties to you.
Let this be a letter
to the Dead Letter office
(I'm sick of your jokes).
Father, I untie you -
air rushes out
and I whoop ...
it's time to let go.
Andrew Burke's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Dear Father by Andrew Burke )
- Lightened In Dawn, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Kansas City Royals vs San Francisco Gian.., miami dupli
- Dispersion, ramesh rai
- Know This To Notice, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Press1, Harold R Hunt Sr
- BSU pride By Bo-Edward Lawrence, Bo Edward Lawrence
- Dandelions, Buddy Bee Anthony
- The Bird, Harold R Hunt Sr
- Essence Of Another Life, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Zion By Bo-Edward Lawrence, Bo Edward Lawrence
Poem of the Day
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- Heather Burns
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)