You tell yourself no harm was meant—
in fact, it was love that made your father warn,
The world is full of danger, as he shut you in your room.

This was after the naked man on the deserted
stretch of road showing his weakness. Maybe it was fear
or a way of managing your wolf-moon light

or maybe suddenly your father understood the bohemian
gold of you—your girl’s body infused with a new wilderness.
What could a father do to be free of his fears

but try to snuff out the blaze in you, say, Dear Heart,
and when his admonitions failed to tame you, switch
to accusing, as he pulled the shades and hid your shoes?