My father's head has become a mystery to him. br We finally have something in common. br When he moves his head his eyes br get big as roses filled br with the commotion of spring. br Not long ago he was a man br who had tomato soup for lunch br and dusted with the earnestness br of a gun fight. Now he's a man br who sits at the table trying to breathe br in tiny bites. When they told him br his spinal column is closing, I thought br of all the branches he's cut br with loppers and piled and burned br in the fall, the pinch of the blades br on the green and vital pulp. Surgeons br can fuse vertebrae, a welders art, br and scrape the ring through which br the soul-wires flow as a dentist br would clean your teeth. br And still it could happen, one turn br of his head toward a hummingbird, br wings keeping that brittle life br afloat, working hard against the fall, br and he might freeze in that pose br of astonishment, a man estranged br from the neck down, who can only share br with his body the silence br he's pawned on his children as love.