poem

 Father's Day

Looking through old pictures of my son

He looks sullen and snide, lip curled,

Eyes squinted like he’s aiming a dart

At everyone’s invisible bullseye

Look at that little asshole

People would say

Someone needs to wipe 

That smirk off his face

But I know the truth:

His little world riven in half,

Mom and dad nightly fighting

Always at one another’s throats

So we had to get our shit together,

Mom and dad, even the boy himself.

Now when he cracks a smile 

In pictures he means it

And so the cycle goes on

Boys grow into men

Sons become dads making

And breaking such fragile delicacies

Along the way.

Each little family doing their best

To expunge the anger and sorrow

They’ve inadvertently brought into the world 

6/18/23