evidence of her tears
glistened her cheekbones
unlike morning’s dew
reflecting the rising sun’s
birth
instead, a slimy trail left by a dying worm
coating an afternoon’s sun-seared asphalt
two junkies
and there, our son
newly ushered into a world he never inhaled
tiny fists ready to go, though already forever defeated
the little bastard’s expression
mirrored, summed up, captured
my life
on his clenched-up, dead, sourpuss face
twisted with disappointment
our lone bond
that’s my boy
that’s my
boy
DENIS SHEEHAN lives in Boston, and is the editor / publisher of Askew Reviews zine. His junk has appeared in Chiron Review, Gloom Cupboard, Astoria, Jersey Beat, AVN Magazine, and others. He is the author of A Nobody’s Nothings, The Longsberry Letters, and Track Wreckard 1–14. Find him at his website.
Fifth Place Winner of the 2013 Luminaire Award for Best Poetry
