That night, undressing me for bed,
my mother pulled my sweater
over my head with that slight claustrophobic …

In the kitchen, I walked a broad arc
around the wringer washer –
If it catches your hair …

How far it’s come, epochs
and continents. Before man
deified the lightning’s fire …

I used to believe a thousand protest signs
could alter decisions of lawmakers and kings,
save my friend from eight more months in Iraq …

The snapshot shows three white-toothed grins,
sunburned cheeks and noses. My brothers
and I pose in front of a giant Reese’s Peanut …

Of course bears, wedding dresses,
letters for Johns. But also the axe
with butchered bed …

My father spins and spins me
till, released, I stumble forward,
arms outstretched, clutching …

My father and I
stroll by the sea.
He’s in a white suit …

She enters softly today, her firm step
and swaying hips gone as she slips in,
whispering to God for forgiveness …

The hero gets the girl.
The villain plunges to his death;
his bitter face disappears in fire and smoke …