every year
since my father died
I hold in my heart
a quiet vigil of his
broken heart, he died
as his beloved wife cast his memory
into the dust, she had moved on
sinking into a schizoid delusion
of glamor, fame and honor
he waited till the very breath in his body gave up
lungs filled and heart seized
we, his five daughters wailed
I keened loudly
my heart broken
as well by that woman
my mother,
I hold him sacred
my saint of St. Valentines day
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