I should be writing about my dad.
I have an occasion
and an audience
and some justification
to speak of this man
whom I knew for so long
but not so recently.
I should be thinking
about my ancestor
while putting his life
into some sort of perspective.
This is what I should be doing.
I can’t

or haven’t.
It has been easier
to not examine
too much of his absence
or his existence
or any other aspect of his era.
I have not been able to focus
on that fuzzy hole
near the middle of things.
Instead
I have found
innumerable ways
to look around it.

Perhaps
I will find some strategy
to consider that hole
directly
in the time that is left.
It is certainly possible
but also extremely unlikely.