(who answer my questions,
even the ones that begin and end in 'why?')
Although there should be,
there is no calendar date
set aside for the men in my life.
The longest day of the year
wouldn’t have enough hours in the day
to celebrate what they can (and cannot) do.
No one thought to book off
all the days they fixed the
“un-repairable” and irreplaceable,
that which I have broken, or even
that which they broke.
And the banks forgot to close
when they sing happy birthday
(to me, or my mom)
or when they bought the matching cake.
There is no medal
for seeing me cry, doing my dishes,
letting me sleep and waking me up.
No one got paid overtime
walking me home or changing the light bulbs.
There is no calendar out there
that staggers names across dates
and bullet points their achievements
(it would be far too lengthy).
Even so,
There are no words in print
that could celebrate them the way I do.
This is for the boys who
can reach the top shelf.
This is for the boys
who’ve helped me do my homework,
who carve the meat,
climb the ladders,
turn the screws,
paint the walls,
cook
and clean,
sing and dance,
use power tools
rip things down
and build them back up again.
They chase, lose and find the dogs,
set things on fire
and still find the time to be golden.
