There’s a joke that ends with — huh?
It’s the bomb saying here is your father.
Now here is your father inside
your lungs. Look how lighter
the earth is — afterward.
To even write the word father
is to carve a portion of the day
out of a bomb-bright page.
There’s enough light to drown in
but never enough to enter the bones
& stay. Don’t stay here, he said, my boy
broken by the names of flowers. Don’t cry
anymore. So I ran into the night.
The night: my shadow growing
toward my father.
A son's world explodes when he finds out everything he wanted and hoped about his dad was wrong. The Earth is lighter because the boy is heavier from the news.
ReplyDeleteThe growing shadow is a very cool image. A son running towards a new sun/day/life.