Father don’t cry come find
the fountain
I have built you—
a fountain!
Come find
the fountain
don’t cry only
the fountain cries
the gold fountain
made of gold tiles
is yours
father
don’t worry
father worries
if he can’t find
the tree by
the fountain
the hidden plant layered
by water
splashed wet tree
like it rained but
the fountain
did it all
father finds
the gold
clammy silken
walls of
the fountain
a central round portal in
some fortress that needs
a fountain
to be deemed that thing
father hides like
the tree
in cotton blend like paper
pay per roles
and schedules
on paper
paid by the hour
why do we find ourselves cornered to these trades?
Father
dreams of
the fountain
he visits
he stays
he looks into its center
thinks he sees a world
in its portal
trailing
dark clammy world
silken avenues to
the fountain
and its
core
father does not want to be
a fountain
he is happy with the world far from
flat earth
father
eats his lunch looking at
the fountain
forgotten by the other luncheoneers
who eat from arctic licked boxes looking at
the fortress
father writes to tell me he has
no more cash
father writes to tell me he is
dying
I write asking about
the fountain
that I think
he must adore
at least in its design
since he visits
often
looks at
the water
when he visits
the fountain in
the fortress with
other men
who eat their lunch
without him looking away while
the spectacle
dreams of water.
_____________
Illustration by Hayley Thornton-Kennedy
