The Lorelai

(for my daughter)

My little mermaid. Always kind—yet now,
I feel a brittle hardness in your heart.
And you retreat to silence, turn to art.

You shut me out, and so I sit and sink,
in tears and rain and tea, till nothing’s left
but salt and mud and leaf. My mind grows mould.

I sleep and weep—it seems that’s all I do;
my job here as your parent, fallen through.

You know, I’ve lost my mind—so many times
it comes as second nature, now, to me.
I lost it one time and left you with Dad,
for points unknown, and finding them, was glad.

I found myself, but I think I lost you;
I hope we get another rendez-vous.