father

translated by PLS

the further you move forward

the deeper I sink

Plato’s cave

is not a cradle

but the image of you

diffracted through a circular aperture

the umbrella with which I guarded you

was a bullet when blasted open

a silent arrow when closed

father

if your so-called ice of justice

hardens in a place

and melts in another

would you then mind returning

to finish off this bag of cold fries

with me

I tried to stand up

kneeling on the carton

climbing over the back of the chair everyone’s watching

your voice higher than all kites and clouds

I turned around and wrapped myself up

unsure of my stance

what do you want？

toys, nuts, mushrooms

or ketchup and ballet shoes

father?

someone was still whispering but you

all of a sudden stopped

turning the vibrance of speech into a resolute action

and came back

picking up the unfinished juice and umbrella

no explanation about abandoning and waiting

departing

like kites and clouds

I jumped off the chair and followed you

father

you knew

so reassuringly

you mended your pace

dashing forward

but father

you never saw me

trembling in the cold orange juice

the storm burst the cave

— not a cradle

but the phantom

you

left me

fainting in light alone