Father, My Guide

by Abigail B., 18

i was formed from clay and marrow
sketched with delicate lines
oil paint blood and muscle

a living gloss stain
a shrinking reflection

i am a scrap of your shadow
racked with eternal hunger
scraping at mud with sore fingers
shaping miniature men

my hands are never clean
coated with each recreation
of your starlight
your summer
your sea

i’ll mix my spit with the ink
pieces of you in each stroke

praying the portraits will love me
as wholly as i love you

Klamath Falls, Oregon