This poem is called "Father's Day."
It's a title poem of this book.
I always feel like I should give a little bit of a content
warning for any kids who are in the audience.
(WHISPERING) That's OK.
[LAUGHTER]
"Father's Day."
"Yesterday, we walked down to the park,
The worn one
Our dear city tries to maintain
Next to the library.
A flash of terror:
My kid ran through people playing soccer
To the swings.
I talked to some dads,
Nice business guys
With the usual deep sorrow wells
I recognize from the mirror.
Their eyes were wild.
We're all waiting with dread
For Father's Day.
We don't deserve a little brunch
Followed by a sleepy blowjob.
We all know merely to survive
This totally survivable life
Is not enough.
What good will it do?
We must not think this is some dream.
The children sleeping alone
In some detention center
Don't need our brilliant sincerity.
It's not enough to give some money,
Make some calls.
They are not ours but they are.
We are the first new fathers.
Ours failed where we cannot.
Stop waiting.
There are no others."