By Amy Bagwell
when after thirty years my father
tells me not a day has gone by when
I have not thought of you I reply:
1. that’s a lot of nots.
2. do you think this is a movie? do you think you’re the star?
3. saying that is like wearing black to a funeral. it doesn’t prove anything.
& he might be speaking again
when I get in my car & back over
my phone on purpose & drive
to one of those nightmare stores
full of bright teeth & paperwork
& devices with new numbers that
fathers don’t have which is unfair
since it was me who called him
after thirty years which is the kicker
Amy Bagwell’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Beloit Poetry Journal, Free State Review, Boxcar Poetry Review, High Shelf Press, where is the river, and storySouth. A co-founder of the artists’ residency nonprofit Goodyear Arts, she holds an MFA from Queens University of Charlotte.