Fathers' Day

My third father ran away today;
deserted the mothership.
On our planet things work differently;
I am fathered by three men who have left
one
by
one.
Each donated their seed;
our technology is very advanced.
I am a three-father hybrid
a tripod grown from a tri-seed
a triumph of modern engineering.

The first could have been a hologram
a holy telegram from god to stop me getting cocky.
It worked.
Hard to be conceited when a spaceship implodes.
He was in the heart of a star,
a supernova, for one white-hot minute. Maybe it was worth it;
baptised by fire and the spirit
he gave me spirit and form, a wavering
projection of himself.

The second was an astrologer;
he charted my stars and planets
yet I hardly remember him.
Maybe he watches over me
from the horoscope columns
of the local paper, I don’t know.

Today my third father ran away.

I count the stars
one
by
one,
and watch the pregnant moon, frantic
in its mad orbit, deserted by the sun.