My Father On That Ladder

My father is up there, on that ladder
smoothing, the underside of the deck,
rusty metal, with sandpaper in circular
strokes, his face peppered with red bits.

He dangles in odd angles, holding on
to beams for support, precarious balance
of feet and faith sharpen beneath his breath
as he talks to himself about what part next.

My father is up there, on that ladder
scraping the sky, protecting the rest
of us from weakened metal and devotion
as he prays to himself about what’s next after.

He dangles in odd angles, holding on
to keep the sky from falling upon us
as he primes the metals and coats the
rust with paint and worship-words.

My father is up there, on that ladder
holding up the sky for us, a precarious
balance of feet and faith and whispering-
devotion, clinging to mortal angles.

08.18.09

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.