Father's Day

Some may not be fathers,

while some do not have fathers,

who have retreated

either to the hearth,

perhaps into themselves.

Some only exist as father

figures.

There is cause

to celebrate nonetheless

the pastor says,

for what all of us have

is one,

immeasurable

against biological or

societal definitions.

I wonder if this man reads Barthes

and binary oppositions.

There can be no fathers

without

mothers.

I cannot suppress
the errant thoughts of how
you would match this moment:

Your coffee steam spiralling

alongside a blossoming cigarette,

which you quickly

obliterate when

toy blocks

and taped finger paintings

remind you of who

you really are.

You can tessellate
these dichotomies
when the scene is barren of

women,

your would-be children,

someone like me who would have let you down.

Before these thoughts become

carnivorous,

I exit the service,

steeling, steering

myself towards the door.

I need a better

reason for this occasion

that neither the pastor

nor myself

can summon.

I need a saccharine

enriched coffee

to dilute the taste

of what makes Father’s Day so

unpalatable.