FOR A DAUGHTER GETTING  MARRIED

this is a poem that says
I would touch her hair
a thousand times a day
listen to her voice play
& re-play like a favorite record

a poem that remembers
her hand clutching mine, afraid
of getting lost
in a crowded store
bringing me a flower, a card
in the beautiful handwriting
so like her father's

a poem so brazen
it dares to confess
I would ask her to live forever
in that small room
among the collages she made
the shelves stacked with books
sculpture, the closet
barely closing

a poem that weeps
unashamedly
that holds fast to the years
then opens its hands
because in the end it is the only
thing for a loving poem
to do