Thursday, May 14, 2015


Between the first
and the last—

and the only
period he'd 

thus far managed
to petition to paper—

and the cursor 
blinking on—and then

off again 
half a second later,

came the realization—

as far as 
any good narrative was concerned,

there wasn't 
so much—a little gap

as there was
quite a bit

of overlap—

the he
who'd be re-

reading the thing
thirty years afterward—and his dad

at age four
or five—a careless blonde boy,

and blind 

to the poverty 
of this very moment—

whose thick
artless cheeks 

and scared 
little smile

he'd never
even thought

to pause—and examine
until now.