To My Father, Who Once Said, You're So Open Your Brains are Going to Fall Out

You were right, dad. They did.
Yet, apparently, some brains grow back.

I left him after twenty years. Maybe
that’s how long it takes. Now, over my shoulder,

your framed face, laughing, happy,
though you can’t see me here,

thing among my things: dictionaries,
bird knick-knacks, mostly owls,

and my trusty Magic 8 Ball that I don’t
trust anymore. Outside the freezing rainfall

is like the sound of plaster. This means
I’m alone and going nowhere.

At last, I am in love.

Michelle Hendrixson-Miller received her MFA from Queens University of Charlotte, where she served as poetry editor of Qu Literary Magazine. Her poems have appeared in Thrush, One, Josephine Quarterly, Poems and Plays, The Moth, Adirondack Review, Still, The Fourth River, Harbor Review, Mudfish, The Museum of Americana, 2River View, One Art (January, 2023), and others. https://mraehendrixsonmill.wixsite.com/mhmpoems