it rears, on hind legs, rabid and soft. it insists, like some kind of new pain. i don’t know what i am doing as a father, as a husband. in frustration the little one bit me, and i smacked her, quick. but despite that, every time i wake up into the living room she says “daddy” the way some people say happy birthday. how could my father abandon a child like this? i watch my wife’s belly, stare at it like it was going to tell me something. waiting for it to tell me that it’s going to happen again, we are going to suffer again. a month is a long time and even then, even then. i don’t think i fight with her over nonsense, i feel something vital is happening there, something is coming loose. then again, as if my anger can hold it back together. as if we were dealing with fissures as opposed to tears. a new kind of broken, every time.
Monthly Archives: April 2007
an aversion to rest
a sinking of the teeth, i dont wanna hear this, i’ve never heard
you say it, not so loud, not like this and i feel as if the clouds
are conspiring against me, and the leaves have turned the sharpest just
before winter and if there was a way around it, i expect you to find it
to put the curves into it and the corners to rest, have the cement edges
weathered down by tongues and hold my hand through it all,
i’ve been done long enough to have it all come to this, to stray pebbles
caught beneath the heel, sand and dirt in my hair to coughing
and i dont wanna hear the tremor of your voice or the wind pushing
against the door or empty branches
only the sound of a palm caressing the cheek before leaving
of putting my eyes to rest