i was a mis-step father
just another mistake
losing the footing
and why are you putting
any of this there?
sending up a flare
amidst some kind of mid-life scare
men are the broken wombs of their thoughts
holding silence around a still-birth
and wondering about the magic of women
in some tragic substitute way
which never says anything more than
i want to hold something i created
hold it near
hold it dear
trapped in the amber of fear
i wanted to frankenstein myself a child
to not reach death and be decompiled
to live this life not reviled
only to, as a skull, have smiled
i am sorry to those i let down
dreaming of some future disconnected
hoping the broken frame got corrected
no lens, we are not friends
i am not sure what kind of memory i am
trying to escape the sense of self as sham
