our fathers by Tanya Rakh

for Andrea

because they taught us
to accept them with all their flaws
especially when it hurts
even when our hands are trembling

to choose our words
to mind our chores
to always be good daughters

to smile through all the thunderstorms
and subtle worms
try harder, girl, 
it only makes you stronger

because they taught us
how to sit still, 
how to line our shoulders with 
wooden benches
don't ever cross your legs like that
don't let them see you stumble

don't you feel dirty, girl?
aren't you ashamed?

Your daughter falls on concrete, 
father, 
every day since the lights poured in
she always slips on wet concrete, 
these endless cities of concrete
comes home each time 
a bit dusty
home is not who we used to be

we were angry yesterday
but it has always been this way
and we could not ask 
for better fathers

my daughter used to be
my daughter could have been 
she used to be
why didn't she?
the ways we hide
because you taught us

Tanya Rakh was born on the outskirts of time and space in a cardboard box. After extensive planet-hopping, she currently makes her home near Houston, Texas where she writes poetry, surrealist prose, and cross-genre amalgamations and works as a professional manuscript editor. Her poetry has appeared in journals including Danse Macabre, Literary Orphans, Yes, Poetry, and Miletus International Literature Journal and is featured in several issues of Alien Buddha e-zine. Her first poetry collection, Hydrogen Sofi, was published in 2019 by Hammer & Anvil Books.