Confession box

There, there, on the sun’s brow you will find
a drop of fire, waiting to turn into what
was fathomed as tears, but daddy ate with
pomp and prodding at daughter’s full inner thighs,
she wouldn’t complain, she wouldn’t paint her tears.
She was meaning alone and so was her name,
bundled like soiled laundry, she hurled herself quite
like an astronaut, NASA emblems glistening quite like
her eyes, quite like the sun.
Now, that she stood half a light-year away from the
sun, she threw her suit away and stood naked.
Yes, she cried for a microsecond before burning like
another aurora gone a whiter shade of pale,
The NASA emblem wouldn’t melt till it fornicated with
An Earth-bound asteroid,
Asteroids don’t hurt no one except this groping father.
He burned like a pyre, he dreamt of last night.
Premonitions were his only gift except for a reputation, a holy man indeed.
She became the tears the sun learned to cry,

‘Where the hell is my bourbon Martha?’
This was another father choking on every psalm he read
at church.
He too had quite a liking for the nuns in heat.
‘See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly’
Beatles were crawling all over his moustache, he was the
Walrus they said.
But the really story began when he groped at that bald nun
and gave birth to a little girl destined to reach not the heavens,
but the sun.