When Good Dadhood first ran, back in 2017, it featured two Special Editions, in addition to the poems appearing on the ‘front page’ of the e-zine. This year, we had much pleasure in again presenting an Easter Special, showcasing eight poems https://gooddadhood.com/easter-special-edition-2020/.
Now, as the 2020 Good Dadhood period approaches its culmination on Fathers’ Day on Sunday 21 June, it is a delight to present another Special Edition, featuring five wonderful poems from Patricia Ace, Zoe Mitchell, JLM Morton and Jenni Wyn Hyatt. To read their poems, please click on this link: https://gooddadhood.com/special-edition-ii-2020/
Also, please do check back here on Saturday for three poems for Father’s Day from Alwyn Marriage.
Meanwhile, here are two lovely photographs from Patricia Ace and Zoe Mitchell … with their Dads.
In the film, Amy Adams is muttering about time as she masters its inkblots. I’m listening to your guttural clench, your vocal fry as each new breath discovers its chord. Your forehead unknots, lips snatch or O at something just beyond your range. Newcomer, it’s unnerving to learn again the way the world works; all my well-earned aphorisms hauled out and reinspected as if they could teach you anything. We’ve got it all rearward, this pedagogy. What can you gain from me who’s lost so much? Let’s lie together, listen to what the world says, learn to speak it back.
Tonight we hold you up late ― four hands gather yours one by one to trim your fingernails. Each hilum radiant against the scissors’ blade
falls to my palm, its snowflake edge catches every dint and fissure of a touch I’d thought soft. Your milk skin is strafed with red
on your cheek, flywing eyelids shut to this evening’s pruning. Some cut arcs are smutted with fust, dark where you’ve learnt of dirt
in miniature. I turn the peelings like the mutes of some tiny owl then watch them circle the plughole; exceptional, new-coined fish. I feel
I’ve picked through something immaculate. Our world’s too big now; my nostrils, pores, armpits all cinema-large, our backwaters grown inhuman, cavernous.
Perhaps that’s what love is, my great benevolence for smallnesses. I could fill rooms with hair, eyelashes, and all the things we trim away.
Luke Palmer’s work has appeared in various places in print and online. His debut pamphlet, Spring in the Hospital (2018) is available from Prole Books and his first YA novel is due in 2021. When not looking after his two brilliant daughters, he can mostly be found in the writing shed or @lcpalmerpoet