Apology to My Daughter

By TOM SLEIGH

“Life is not a walk across a field…”—Pasternak

For ten years, Hannah, the world convinced me
that thorn trees, desert, Land Rovers tricked out
with CB radios, machine guns and armor plate,

grew more real the harder it became
to fulfill my nightly promise to rebar and rubble
that some final vowel would reverse time

and resurrect stunted concrete into a city.
Stretched to the horizon, a smoking, vacant lot;
overgrown weeds and vines; a real nightingale

flitting among leaves. I didn’t know it
back then, but when I left you, Hannah, I suspected
private life, underneath, was pure evasion.

But I learned there’s no shortage of suffering—
that a father’s no shield for his child
when life is, in fact, a walk across a field.

 

Tom Sleigh’s many books include The King’s Touch (forthcoming in February 2022); House of Fact, House of Ruin; Station Zed; and Army Cats. His book of essays, The Land Between Two Rivers, recounts his time as a journalist covering refugee issues in the Middle East and Africa. He has won a Kingsley Tufts Poetry Award, a Guggenheim Fellowship, a Lila Wallace Award, both the John Updike and Individual Writer Awards from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and two NEA grants. His poems appear in The New Yorker, The Atlantic, Threepenny Review, Poetry, and many other magazines. He is a Distinguished Professor at Hunter College.

[Purchase Issue 22 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Apology to My Daughter

Related Posts

Headshot of Brionne Janae

September 2026 Poetry Feature

BRIONNE JANAE
did you keep your mind? / you got to walk it for yourself / and on returning what state did you find it in? / as in what state were you in? / were you where you left yourself? / and who was left? / was anyone left? / and how sure were you that you could reach them?

Cover of Dear Mothership

August Poetry Feature

ELLEN HINSEY
Never forget: the Tyrant time reached others before you—they too weathered the deluge of its tempest-strewn path. For Tyranny always imagines it will write history. But, time and again, it is Justice that will arise, then bow down to write—the history of Tyranny’s demise, instead.

Headshot and Issue 31 cover

Podcast: Lauren Delapenha on “Supermarketing”

LAUREN DELAPENHA
Lauren Delapenha speaks to Emily Everett about her poems “Supermarketing” and “If You Are Learning English,” which appear in The Common’s spring issue. Lauren also discusses her process, her time at the Disquiet Literary Program in Lisbon, and balancing both teaching and writing.