FATHER Poem by Peter Semolič

Last night
I dreamt about you,
father.
You came
into my dream
as a deer
and stood astride
a grassy
mound.

I called you
by your name,
father.
I called you
by the word: father
I said:

Look,
my eyes are
two wet flowers
by the mountain
stream.
Come,
let your warm
deer tongue
dry the dew
that fell upon
my eyes.

And you stood
as in another
world,
as in another
dream,
on a mound,
overgrown with grass.

You shook your
mighty
antlers
and vanished in the white
cloud
of no one's
dreams.