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Meredith Herndon
​

Father
After Safiya Sinclair

Father I am waiting and time
has turned from witchgrass to metal
under my feet Father this metal
feels cold like you I am alone
remembering the orchard
peaches fall and rot after the wind
takes advantage of their ripeness
Father how heavy the air was
with bruises you cut
the trees and told me to build
Father you called me your
self gave me your tongue your
hands but Father these trees
are not meant for building these
trees are not meant for you Father
I write trees because I cannot
use the tongue you gave me
Father your tongue chokes
what I want to say Father I want
to say Father I cannot build you
forgiveness from this wood Father
I prefer the tree Father the fruit
Father there once
was something beautiful

--
Meredith Herndon is a writer and editor currently living in Virginia. She has an MFA from the University of California Davis, where she won the Celeste Turner Wright Poetry Award sponsored by the Academy of American Poets. Her poems have been published in The Seventh Wave, Faultline, Sundog Lit, Copper Nickel, poets.org, and elsewhere. She is currently a Guest Editor for Palette Poetry. 

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