Sunday, August 16, 2026

poem

Primogeniture

My dad was never around 

So my son has to see me

Every single day


My dad was indifferent 

To my success or failure

So long as he was the hero 


Of however the story turned out.

I just want to be my son’s

Powerless wizard warning


Him to pay attention 

To all the hidden trapdoors 

I’d ever fallen through.


Once a self-proclaimed white knight

My dad is now like any other castled king

Alone on his throne, back to the wall


Anxiously waiting for the coup

He knows is coming right there

In the middle of his Great Hall


I’ve never been interested in kingdoms—

I only want my boy

To be better than me


But he’s mad right now, though,

Says he likes the feeling of falling

As I reach to catch him anyway.


My only spell is an overcompensation 

That takes years to slough

From the next generation.


8/16/26


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