My father washes his hands.
Lava soap of grease-cutting,
Industrial, heavenly clean.
Lather up work, the rituals.
Off grime and dirt. Off day’s
Everything, children and the
Wife who crawls on all fours.
Water down the drain’s flower,
Metallic mouth wherein flows
My father’s love’s absolution.
Credit
From Postcards by Joseph O. Legaspi (Ghostbird Press, 2019). Copyright © 2019 by Joseph O. Legaspi. Used with the permission of the poet.
Date Published
01/01/2019