Years later, when my father came to see me
he was frail, blinking nervously in the California light
stripped of his power
his power over me—
I thought years away from me had weakened him

like his struggle with me
his life’s work was over—
in a sense, I was his life’s work
his career

no longer angry or ambitious
but interested, deferential
appearing to care
(he did care)
at this remove
on a Western shore, he worked no spell
the war was over

Stuart Dodds

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