Father Memory
my dad used to twist the edge of his moustache
finger tips rolling thick black hair between them
in the same way I rubbed two pieces of silky
baby-blanket material between my fingers
the effect was calming, steadying, a pulling
focus past fears of fire and famine and failure
the baby blanket went missing decades ago
and my father’s fingers clasped over his chest
the long sleep pulls him
a bird tucks my silver
hair in her nest
VANESSA SHIELDS 