There is a very small, but very potent
Organ embedded in my heart. (No,
This has nothing to do with romance.)
My father must have put it there.
It will not show up on any scans
Or X-rays nor would any surgeon
Dig around enough to find it.
I am not even sure where it lies.
I know it is there because I feel it.
When?
I don’t mean to brag, but my career
In higher education has been ripe
With many fine accomplishments.
But I’ve helped countless students
Without sensing this small organ beat.
No, I only notice it when I work at home:
Get a drain unclogged, fix a fan
Or even change my oil (and bloody
My elbow). I don’t think of my Dad
Then, but that’s when this organ beats,
It’s rhythm telling me I’m his son.
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