For My Half-Sister When The Biodaddy Died... Poem by Pasha Satara

Lori, I tell you
it's like a lit cigarette in the dark...
it'll burn out.
Ashes to ashes
& all things like that -
day old cat food & dry skin
will go on,
but our father who art in heaven
is gone.

Lost causes are my specialty.
I can say: Randy Lee, pick up that guitar
&
Paco, put your hand on the lady's breast...
but they won't.

Lori, I tell you
it's like the lights are on & everybody's home,
but
it'll be empty & you'll be lonely in a crowd.
Ashes to ashes
& all things like that -
dirty dishes in the sink & PMS
will go on,
but our father, who art in heaven,
is gone.

Maybe we can do something
about rust in the drinking water
& chipped nail polish,
scratched CDs
& broken guitar strings;
maybe we can even make a difference
in domestic violence, hunger, war...

but

Lori, I tell you,
stay away from that gravesite.
You don't want to fall
& he doesn't really want to pull you in.