I had a father, but he gave me away.The end of the altar like a cliff face.This same father is of the old faith.He says billions of people acrosshuman history can’t be wrong,which is also an argument forpopulism, but I understood.He bought me Umbros when I wanted pretty dresses.He said the problem with most people is that they’renot hungry enough, metaphorically speaking, but thatI didn’t understand, so I refused to eat for two decades.He drove in every cardinal direction to move me fromapartment to apartment during my intransigent years,helping me pack up my books and buy new futonsto install in another basement efficiency, if lucky.Some had windows. Never once did he complain.He stood at soldierly attention when I went insane,the dissolution of all ability funneling from mind,leaving me motionless as…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, November/December 2022