My father is an artifact
A tree whose luck is embedded in my fists
His voice is an anchor that keeps me in this house
An alphabet I scatter like seeds I will happen upon later
Codes rage around me like a weather that protects
I speak like a cub spelling its parent with one letter it has memorized

I will unmask him and remake him without

            his house           his credit cards           his clothing

I will plant his wife in an orchard and his lovers
I will skip like flat stones across a lake
I will carve the totem pole of his voice with no tools

only indentations in the flesh that memory leaves