Divorced, my father bought a telescope.
He wanted me to learn about the loneliness
he carried in his gut like a time bomb,
a suburban loneliness, an unquenchable solitude
born of an inability to feel
at home at home or anywhere else.
His home was in the stars – was that what he
wanted to teach me? In my eyes
he was alien: swarthy, European,
a patchwork of incompatibilities
passed on to me through oblique mutations
I’ve yet to grasp. We’d point it at the moon
from our small balcony on Greenside Drive
marveling at its pockmarked surfaces
scanning for life among its lonely faces.
– from unburial