“Daughter” by Chris McCurry

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When I finally understood
you were reliving a memory
of your first time flying,
I watched your hand take off
and your mouth form
the percussion of engines.

Then, midflight, the airplane
turned into a helicopter
and the whomp of the blades
whirred from your lips as it crashed
like the many times you were
hoisted on my feet, and for fun,
suffered a similar tragedy.

I’m struck now, not by the power
or clarity of your recollection,
but how you told a story
and it was one of dying
and I had taught it to you.

-Chris McCurry

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