He left me 5 pointed stars on my windowsill.
left me Yu-gi-oh cards in my closet.
spiderman stickers appear randomly on
undersides of desks
insides of closets
sucked out of hiding places by vacuum cleaners.
left me 5 pointed stars on my windowsill
and now too tight blue and gold dashikis
on closet floors.
left me fathers day's and birthday cards in my top drawer and
keychain rings made in classrooms.
He left me pictures with toothless grins
and videos of graduations and trips to the city.
He left me five pointed stars on my windowsill
and spiderman cups in the cupboard
The Incredibles jump at me in the morning
and Darth Vader mugs beg to be used again.
His little blue chair sits where it was when he left
with the stickers still attached.
I miss him.
Though he's gotten older
and hopefully wiser
and though I did my best
I can't help but feel that I failed
became more like my father than I ever wanted to be
and fear there may be another black boy out there
with hate in his heart for a man who was supposed to always be there.
and it hurts
I cherish those five pointed stars
left on my windowsill
'cause it's all I have