You will never hear this from your father, but
your father tried hatching your egg,
setting over you day after day,
boggy testicles blanketing
your soft shell,
only the rasp
of his shoeless feet
shifting in the nest
to break the long vigil's
quiet.
All this in hopes of a child
in place of a loss,
which I believe he believed he'd suffered
in either commerce or connectedness -
or some such silly thing as that which still
has him bewildered at his commitment,
hovering as he was over a strange
-ling's egg hoping
this would read
like a father to you.
