Frank O'Hara-To My Dear Father
| O'Hara, Frank "To My Dead Father" |
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Don't call to me father. wherever you are I'm still your little son running through the dark. I couldn't do what you say. even if I could hear your roses no longer grow My heart's black as their bed their dainty thorns have become my face's troublesome stubble you must not think of flowers And do not frighten my blue eyes with hazel flecks or thicken my lips when I face my mirror don't ask that I be other than your strange son understanding minor miracles not death father I am alive! father forgive the roses and me. |
