I am
my father’s daughter.
He is
the face I wear to the world.
He moves
as I move,
walks as I walk,
He is
in the hunch of my shoulders as I sit,
in the hunch of my shoulders as I sit,
in the gaping of my mouth on unguarded moments.
I can never be
the fruit that falls far from the tree,
I am
my father's daughter;
He is
the blood
running thick through my veins;
the face
staring back at me
in startling moments of epiphany.
To disremember him is to disremember me.
I cannot not be.
I remind me of him.
There is no escaping--
My own reflection haunts me.
(I am
my father's daughter.
I am
his legacy.)
my father's daughter.
I am
his legacy.)
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