for a son love is a variant

of brilliance to refrain I know I know

and never falter         every child holds

a father’s hand like it doesn’t

know what it means to let go

then it does my hands are more

root than limb they pull life

mother I still have quivering bones

and a runtlike frame I am still puzzling why

some words sound more lyrical than

others       clever womb-wrought sapling

          I love you     they are a mirror

without glass do you hear

what I want to say but cannot

a body comes apart like a flower

blooming when it rains again I am

a baby in a dry blue river waiting

to be roselike meanwhile

I pound delete       like I’m killing something

squint enough and you can see me

drowning in noise         never silent

to grow up you must first be ghostlike and

wander       I promise if I see a ghost

I will not chase it      I am sibilant in my

demands but now I know how it feels to care

I drink ash like there’s life in it     for now I am

more ghost than man I am a worse person

than I was raised to be