For Terry

If you were my daughter
I'd lock you up in a room
And not let you marry
But you're not my daughter
            So I let you go

If you were my daughter
You'd look into the mirror
And exit on the other side
And run away with the first loafer
            So I'd have to let you go

You walked on the beach
Once with your mother
She heard a siren song
But you were a son, no daughter
            So she let you go

But you two were briefly together
Time is always so brief
So you cooked and sang together
As we two briefly did
            And then you let her go

Just before you sent your letter
Of a Thursday I remembered Imam Kazem
And read of the blood of Karbala
I stooped and fell on my own house tiles
            as if at Karbala

I hurt myself as I hurt you
            And so I let you go.

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