Last night I had the most interesting dream
In it I was 6 years old at a national spelling bee
Genius complex words like serendipity Duodenum
Floccinaucinihilipilification all spelling them right up to the
Last round one word that’s giving me a victory
The spell master clears his throat young man
Your word is father, the crowd began to chatter
Among themselves all Upset at the simplicity
Of this final word, I look at the masters eyes
His eyes saying everything’s going to be okay
If you do it and I realized I dazed off, young
Man your word is father I stood up straight
Licked my lips, and began, Father, M-O-T-H-E-R
Father spell master looks at me, looks at his flash
Card he says I’m sorry, but you’re incorrect.
Wait wait; see I don’t think he understands,
See my father is sitting right in the audience.
“Excuse me?” I’m sorry son, you’re incorrect
Well you sir can save your sorry apologies because
You must mean incorrect as in within the parameters
Of being right let me explain something to you obviously you
Aint grown up where pops were rollin stones down the hills
Of women’s backsides and when he comes, all he left us was alone
Where menstrual men stroll around on bikes and fathers balanced
Their Menstrual 2 jobs 2 kids and life on a unicycle and it looked something like
This, breastfeeding with one arm, phone on the shoulder, cooking with the
Other arm and cleaning with one leg and tying sneakers with their teeth
Young fathers who make mistakes because they are not all perfect but the
One mistake they’d never make is abandoning their seed you see fathers
Are master gardeners they tend to every leaf removing the weeds placing
Us in the windows of opportunity so we can lean towards the sun so we can never
Forget that the sky is the limit planting kisses on our cheeks, hugs on our backs
Growing their love on us the best way they know how, like my father, my father
Lived a deadly nightmare so I can live my dreams, my father awarded me in blood sweat and tears, in hopes that’d I’d be ripe for the harvest, and I hope that I’ll be as great as a father
As she was for me you did not ask me to spell dead beat sir but if you’d like dead beat
Here it is F-A-T-H-E-R D-A-D D-A-D-D-Y P-O-P P-O-P-S if you’d like the slang, you asked me
To spell father and where I am from in my life father is and has been and always will be spelled
M-O-T-H-E-R so open your encyclopedias show me your flashcards, open your dictionaries
Cause what Webster says, means nothing around here, around here my father is sitting right there, and I love her