Monday, March 21, 2016


Do we love our shin bones, our scapulas, our clavicles?
Yes, we do.
Do we love our ear lobes, our inner thighs, our tender parts?
Why yes, even better.
I know we're supposed to say it's all "the same," or "equal"
but we'd sacrifice an elbow to save an eye.
That's why they make a body, strictly speaking,

A father is made up of 78% bone.
Now that's just a fact.
And men, for better or for worse, 
are encouraged to transmute the soft into
more than just a little gristle.

Now, language is imprecise.
I've been telling you for fourteen years
you used to be inside me.
That for nine blessed uncomfortable months
I carried you. 
But child, my back's near broke 
but I love my load.
You are still inside me.
Everywhere you touch the world
I'm exposed; I tremble.