Thursday, December 29, 2016

Thoughts of a Nine-Year-Old Boy

You can be anything you want to be,
is what the semi-anonymous adult always says,
If you put your mind to it and work hard.

And in his limestone eyes I see the longing of a mariner
at sea these many years,
catching a distant glimpse of a coastline
to which his ship is not sailing.

Anything I want to be, you say?
Let’s face it, oddly invested non-stranger,
You are talking to yourself.

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Bad Father

I’m sorry I set you down on the bed a little harshly
But there really is no excuse for crying that much
Especially when
All your needs had been met
That shriek 
That wail
A weasel caught in a combine
And over
And over
And over
The one that genuinely hurts my ears
As I tenderly hold you on my hip
My spine slowly turning into a question mark
My mohair voice persisting
In vain attempts to comfort
Then suddenly rasping into a giant Waitsian fuckyou
Love briefly becomes rage and you bounce lightly
But not lightly enough
On the very expensive mattress we bought through the mail
And I know that in a few minutes I’m going to feel guilty
But for now
It almost seems
Like you deserved it