upon finishing his dinner
hatched a plan for us
i would push his high chair
into the next room
and he would watch me
play guitar while he sang
and as he explained it
his eyes showing me
the way without pointing
wide and blue
his arms up in celebration
of the good times promised
a flash of pain in my chest
comes with a moment
of total recognition
my father would pull us
toward fun this way
the eyes the mouth all of it
dead
and now alive a look
i thought i’d never feel
again is emblazoned in my son
and the tears that come
are from seeing a ghost
and wanting and not
wanting to see it
the rest of my days.