Time Slip

The pale green plastic saucer 
Wobbles a little bit 
As it flies from me to my daughter,
The way the Martian ships 

In those old science-fiction 
Double-features did, 
When we did not exist 
And my dad was just a kid. 

Now my dad is dust,
And the girl who wrapped her fist 
Around my fingertip
Plucks the puny disc

Out of the air, as if 
It was just a frisbee,
Or she was now a fifty-
Foot tall giantess.