I remember him in my forgetting
Of wallets and keys
And in my morning cup of tea
in my checking of locks
and watching the clocks
for any temporal discrepancies

In my refraining from praise
My hunched shoulder blades
In subtle hints of affection
And persistent deflections
From my neglected responsibilities

My father is a forgetful person
Yet I remember him dearly

In the shape of a car
He drove for a decade
In the eyes of a kitten
He pulled out of a wreckage

I remember him dearly
Through the sound of an engine
In a bag filled with kiwis
And our home’s little fixtures

He is quiet like a ghost town
Abandoned and lonely
I wonder what secrets
His walls might be holding

But mostly, I remember him
As the shape of my fury
As a dread that just lingers
Through wreckage and ruins