Letters
by:
Troubled Coast
We are vessels for. We’re models of. We write the history books with teeth and tongue. We legislate. We prophesy. We promise we’ll. We stole time from. You told me you’d. You said it was. You whispered it into my ear before you took. I’ve never seen. I’ve never felt. I’ve imagined what it’s to be my father’s greatest, my mother’s greatest…love. But o’ my dear it doesn’t seem so big now. This mountain feels more like a stone that I could grasp in the small of my hand and cast as you struggled and feigned to compose. You’d wince when I winked and smile and think, he’s perfect and I played the fool. That little boy wept the day that I left and pawned all his insides for gold. We are vessels for. We are models of. We stole time from, You said it was. You wrapped yourself in sweet kerosene and said “goodnight.” O’ where are you now?