Our Father by Ron Kolm

Our daddy madly singing
Dances atop the table
While the universe
Smolders outside the door.
His naked prancing
Stunts our growth–
But mommy’s gone away.

Daddy keeps twisting
The night away, a note 
To mom taped to his chest:
“Could you ever hope
To have it as sweet
As when you were with
The kids and me?”

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