Inside my father’s crown
is heaven and earth.
He wears a box.
My father’s not Google.
Maybe can’t spit out exact numbers
of Mantle in a minute.
But may be able to, after a while.

It’s in his skull.
So much up there.
So much.
It’s as if, even all of heaven
and earth is somewhere up there.
He always notices the cardinal
out back.

And the blue jay, and sparrow.
Can list the numbers of friends
all lost in the war.
Sometimes they perch on the fence.
He sometimes takes a shovel
and carries away a bird.
One that’s dead.

Buries it behind the shed.
Says prayers and some scriptures
locked in his head by heart
amidst heaven and earth.
Says not one falls to the ground
without God knowing about it.
All lost, but found, and preserved.

And he should know.
Inside my father’s crown
is heaven and earth.

Published in Linden Avenue Literary Journal, 2017

Written by Joe Bisicchia on 15/10/17
© 2017 Joe Bisicchia

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heart, earth, lost, God, Friends, war

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