Birthday—August, 1979

 

Birthday—August, 1979

After scary sickness, weeks in bed,
    today I’m better.
Head clear. Body hollow,
    sixteen pounds shed
    in sweat and snot.
So I call Dial-A-Lawyer,
    write a will by phone.
Drive to the city, Social Security
to register my daughter
    who is unknown by the state,
    born at home
    one year to this date.
Bring her along as proof.
Paperwork.
Plan a death and record a birth.

My beloved bakes a cake. One candle.
I’m still a bit shaky. Can’t rest.
Where’s my tool belt?
It’s time to build toys. A wagon.
A house. Soon.
A life for this daughter.

……

From my book Foggy Dog
First published in Snapdragon
photo by me of her

Note: my daughter was born at home in the back yard on a waterbed under a full moon—your basic hippie home birth. Then I got very sick. Recovered on her first birthday, saw the light and felt a rush of energy, wrote a will (by telephone), drove the old car to the city and made her an official person. It was time to get organized about this whole fatherhood thing.