Daddy Poem by Bjorn Visser

When i was sick, you did not once
come to my bed. You did phone though.
Concerns with money.
As always.

Like a dead sea horse being sold as a toy
I lay there, listening.
Too expensive, a tired looking mother moaned
Just like you moaned
Too expensive.
She seemed to familiar.

The smell of expensive after-shave
'be back later, look after the young ones. you have my number'
Then the swirling of a black, dead jacket and long, coarsely, flowing hair on your brazen arm.
Gone.

Too expensive you moaned.
Just like the mother moaned.
I lay there, sea horse. Dead and ready to be sold
Ready to be used.
You never once came to my bed when i was sick.
You did however, complain.
Tedious. Impudent.
Childbirth.
She did it, not you!

Too expensive.
You phoned though,
I love you too daddy.