Parthenogenesis Paternal
If I were only Woodrow’s son, yes, just
His son, not his and Helen’s, then my heart
Would sing with dreams and poetry, gold dust
Of life. My mind would separate apart
The pettishness of daily living from
The mountain clouds of Florida above
Him in the bee yard sky. He knew the sum
Of life was more than money. It was love
And all its sums, more exponential than
Addition or mere multiplication—
Belonging to a realm above the man
Inside an office, a steeper nation.
If I were only Woodrow’s son, I might
Belong like heroes to a skylark’s height.
~ Phillip Whidden