Posts tagged ‘boy’

November 18, 2017

ghosts cannot kill

life after life
life after this coffee is gone, slipped out of its cup
computer screens bleeping, drama queens screaming
after a walk in the woods, after silence
thoughts of my father
pop up like mushrooms in spring,
me as a father now especially
as that one spire, strident, fixture in my life
once was, as afraid of the dark
as bumps in the night, he stands there
dead eyes, calming, voided, silhouette doorway
telling me the same thing he told me to make me feel safe:
a ghost has never killed anyone in the history of time,
no one has died from seeing a ghost,
and if i were going to die i would have done it by now
he told me that without exaggeration
i wonder are they real
or are they just gone when they are

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November 25, 2014

Naïve Play (as a boy)

When I was a boy, I sat on a polished smooth cement floor
in my father’s four-car garage. Below me were bits of broken
thermometer, recently shattered; this ancient device, with
Mercury inside. It had leaked out now, as I again dropped
a hammerhead on its transparent innards: the crunch of broken-
powdered glass- the ting of blunt object’s glance (on stone)-
the grating pitch of sand as it slid to, by this violent tool,
to be picked back up. Liquid splashed out, forming dots… These
blue eyes saw all, what fun! It was great until my mother put
her hands under my shoulders and pulled me away fast from that
spot. Damn the chemical reactions that capture our attention,
then we are –against our will, kicking and screaming, drug away.