Is this how your garden grows in secret too.
by James McLain
Daddies and Mums little girl.
Is the ocean floor filled with fingers
that dance and toes that move the air?
I am he of whom you think,
and think you don't when I am gone.
Your mother when she smiles and clever does.
Your father he is Greek so I confess I won't.
Could I but love one sky.
I long to raise and share the donkey milk.
Sunday aches when more than money is involved.
The art of war a book I read,
and on the beach alone before I come.
Overhead the moon each azimuth seams transparent,
and silence is by dad I'm told on how to eat a peach.
Keep in mind
that heaven is a different sign - to my only daughter.