My father's son.

my father's son

four thirty a.m.,
rushing to the bathroom
to pee through the dim
light sneaking along the hallway

my ears weighing
the rustling of his jacket,
the sliding glass doors,
the truck's engine dinning

and pulled by the light,
I edge forward to see him
watching the snow,
the flakes collecting like small debts
against the glass

daddy, dark and beautiful,
stood tall inside the door,
his shoulders hunched against the chill,
across the broadness of his back
i saw the massiveness of his will

his eyes colored with stem resolve,
warmed my shivering youth,
sniffling, his handkerchief dabbed
the frost from his nose
and when he smiled
within me rose
the thrill of being his

daddy smelled like work,
touching my face with a large dry hand,
his muscles taut from mops and pails,
legs, long and aching, would carry him
across tiled floors in donut shops,
over shoe-stained carpets in banks,
the dirty corners of post office halls,
the cubicles of bathrooms, greying and dank,

daddy's jacket, bulky and worn,
was buttoned to the top,
the collar turned against his unshaven face
vast boots with thick white socks
pulled high over his aching calves

"lock the door behind me and scoot back to bed!"
and upon his head
he tightened the baseball cap,
beyond the door
he faced the frozen attitude
of a merciless morning

daddy moved, a solitary man, through
drifts of snow,
his large boot prints
marking the places where he had gone,
the truck door slammed,
gears cursing beneath his gloved hand,
lights rolled across the unplowed road,
while daddy, a gladiator, challenged
the dawn from the depths of his inner man

alone, i shivered with guilt,
my mind impressed that he left nothing undone,
and succumbing to sleep,
with my boyish dreams,
i longed to be my father's son

Mel Donalson has published poetry, essays, and short stories, and is the editor of Cornerstones: An Anthology of African American Literature. A scriptwriter, his critical study Above the Line: Black Directors in Hollywood will be published by the University of Texas Press in 2003.