Saturday, March 2, 2019

Vasiliki's (Feb.) Poem


My Father Was a Quality Control Engineer



1.

My father was a quality control engineer
he searched for flaws, even at home

my brother and I met his eagle eye, dark brow,
beaked nose, but sometimes we evaded

What I studied in college
was how to make meaning, to make meaning

to make, to make
out of material given

Home or Homer, human or numen.
To mean, to mean.

Continue on.
Make meaning, search for flaws.
Make meaning, search for flaws.

Until the flaws are what remain
of meaning made.

My father was a quality control engineer,
together we raised a superstructure

made of meaningful flaws.


2.


After he left us
he turned to the golden eagle

that led my Subaru down the road
and in that dream

from behind a mask, he told me
you, you are eagles


haltingly, as if to say
you don’t need to worry

What I studied then
made no sense to him

What I sensed
made no sense either

Continue on.
Human not numen.

Until the flaws are remade,
are what remake us.