Patriarch

Dwarf-chimneys suspended from his lips
How he’d vanish in his recliner-throne
Eleven hours of John Wayne
…and counting
How he’d bellow against the hush-hush, chucking chairs like a pitcher’s fastball
With the Lord-Jesus-God-our-Savior in animal skin binding
Collecting the sweat from his armpits
When I sat Indian-style and he’d braid my hair into princess ponytails
Dashboard thunder as he chugged his stick shift to Maxwell’s for ice cream joytimes
Ooo-rah, the Army is for girls
When a freshly-braided bedtimechild found pot under the bed
…and in the Betty Crocker point holder
…and in the play-doh cabinet
“You calling me a liar?”
When he carried me like a sack of potatoes,
Dangling over his shoulders and glee-squealing
How his cat tongue hands scribed his all-caps sermon-lies
And when he caught me lip-trembling and informed me that I was “just too weak”
Then ate his cracker-crumb dinners to buy me milk