Fathering

When I first hold our children, 
Lately having labored alongside you, 
I promised many things — too many — 
Like the alcoholic too late repentant, 
Willing to stay dry throughout eternities 
Till, aching across afternoon, 
Thirst slides through an unlocked window. 

I count my failings like papaya seeds. 
I do not want to overbear, 
shouting down corridors of closed doors. 
No, I would have them race into my arms, 
Exchange intimacies. 
Instead I dictate, order, punish. 

Watching whiteflies flit among green fronds, 
I wonder at the haste of days 
(Their growing, our graying), 
And in the tick of time, dread severance.