he fell into the gap

found, at last, a place for us

to hide and guess the clouds

A fruitless bush spread out its arms

stopped my daddy's flight

his cap was the first to be saved

later on, while the helicopters sang

My daddy died with a hole in the head

his hands remained untouched

writer's hands, all porcelain

said the man who combed my daddy's hair

and shaped his final smile.

(For my father, Arnold Imhof, June 7, 1935 - August 1, 2007)